“The Thorns and the Briers”

(A True Story of the Kelly Gang)

This manuscript was written by Joseph William Ashmead in 1922. The following copy was re-written by Glenden Gordon and supplied to me (Gary Dean) in the early 1980’s, by family descendants Clinton & Buddy Corker.The numbers on the left of the page in blue are the original page numbers. This copy was made using a lead pencil and as the writing faded it was written over in ink. Unfortunately pages 37-41 were unreadable at that time, and as a consequence are impossible to decipher without enormous magnification. The format of this copy changes several times as Glenden starts to underline spelling mistakes or suggest changes in these brackets [ ].The original exercise book containing Joseph’s hand written copy still exists and is being copied at the time of writing these notes. It is hoped that a copy of this will become available in the near future. This book was the only item saved by Clinton and Buddy’s mother, when their house at Myrrhee was consumed in the 1951 bushfires.

Following this copy is a second edited version which makes easier reading.

“The Thorns & the Briars”

THE TRUE STORY OF THE KELLY GANG

By Joseph William Ashmead1859-1930

“The Thorns and the Briers”

(A True Story of the Kelly Gang)

Preface

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My object in writing this story is to record factsin connection with a desperate band of Lawbreakers. Although clothed in fiction. The statements with regard to the family and the doings of the Gangare quite true and are made from personalknowledge. I claim to be an Australian Backwoods-man of over fifty-six years standing. Ned andDan Kelly were the playmates of my earlychildhood. They were kind, goodnatured boys. There is much in environment. If they had been undera firm hand to keep them out of bad company,and wise counsel to give them good advice theywould have grown up to be good citizens. I mighthave trod the path of folly and came to the same unhappy end, but for the fact that I was thechild of Puritan Parents who taught me in the wayof wisdom and led me in right paths, always impressing upon me the fact that honesty was thebest policy and that sin was a transgression againstthe laws of God and Man. By this teaching a boywas able to keep the right path[s] while his playmates became murderers and died a death of shame. Oneof the chief causes of lawlessness in the backcountry in the early days was the absence of the Church and Christian Religion which not onlyinspires to good living but brings about a fearof evil deeds. The Church does much to solacethe country. I hold no brief for any particularChurch. They are all alike good, and preachthe same gospel and can be compared to anumber of courses through which the purechirstel water passes to join a Mighty River

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and united pass into a boundless sea. I knewthe unhappy men well and lived near theirhome for many years, was present at the sceneof the Capture in Glenrowan, and have notsaid what I have to justify their crimes butto explain the cause of their down-fall. It wouldbe much better if their evil deeds were allowedto die with them. So much has been writtenthat is untrue and unfair and it is mostunwise that picture shows, should be allowedto go about the country showing views of thesuposed exploits of the Kelly Gang. They havea degrading effect on the rising generation.How often we hear of boy bushrangers whoby reading bad literature or seeing farfetched pictures have been inspired toimmulate the deeds of the Kelly Gang.Another reason why the matter should beburied is the relations. They are placed on therack, their hearts are barrowed and theirfeelings outraged for something they were not responsible for and which they regret morethan anyone else. It appears to me verywrong that people that have shown suchunbounded love and loyalty to King andCountry should be so misrepresented and socruelly treated. With regard to those threebrave men Sergeant Kennedy and TroopersLounigan and Scanlon who were murderedat Stringebark Creek. They are worthy to be remembered. They gave their lives on the Altarof duty and we have strong sympathy fortheir descendents. It is human to err butdevine to forgive. Then let us forget theblack past and forgive as we hope to beforgiven.

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1 Little Nell2 Australia3 Towns4 The Pioneers5 Glenrowan6 The Eleven Mile Creek7 Bad Company8 The Thunder Clouds Burst9 Murder at Stringebark Creek In the

Wombat Ranges10 Outlawed11 The Euroa Bank Robbery12 Unsuccessful Pursuit13 The Garildia Bank Robbery14 The Mistery deepens15 The murder at the Woolshed16 The Breaking up of the Gang17 The Last of Ned Kelly18 A Mother’s Sorrows19 A Kind Son20 Life is But a Dream21 The Call to Duty22 On the Battlefields of Europe23 Mischief Makers and Lieing Tongues24 Consuming Fires.

4.1. Chapter 1 Little Nell

It is summer in Ireland in the year 1839. It hasbeen a glorious July day, and all nature seems to rejoice in the warmth and joy of Life. There areblack thorn edges interwoven with roses andflowering creepers. The grass in the medows withrich green waves in the wind. And in many placesthe much beloved shamrock is growing in all its sweetness. In the distance is to be heard the soundof men working in the harvest fields gathering in the golden grain. The time will soon come for the toilers to rest from their labour for the sun is fast sinking in the west and the evening shadows are lengthening and the fishing boats are busy in the littleharbour, some are returning and others arepreparing to go out for the night. A crowd offifteen or twenty healthy happy children areplaying. Their young hearts are carefree and they make the evening ring with their shaughtsand peals of merry laughter. We hear theirlittle jokes in strong Irish axcent. One small girl about nine years of age is standing apart fromthem. She is not interested in their play. There isa faraway look in her eyes. Her thoughts havetaken her to a Land across the sea. The wind is blowing through her long black hair that ishanging down her back or falling in tressesover her pretty face. I say Nell. Shaughted oneof the boys. Why but ye would come and playinstead of standing there like a silly donkey.She turned on him almost fearcly and said.You stupid gasoon will ye never learn sence.Pointing across the sea she said. Don’t yousee that ship. A full riged four mast sailingboat was ploughing through the deep with allher sails spread. The water parted before her

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bows in white foam. The bright rays of thesetting sun flashed on the ship and made theSails look like great sheets of silver. Soldiers inuneform walked the deacks carrying guns. Thebig black cannon proclaimed her to be a convictship bound for the South. At the sight of thisship the children were quiet and Little Nellspok again. Ye can laugh but ye don’t knowwho is on that boat. It may be that someof your own are there, for they are takingaway a powerful lot just now. And it isyourself that would like to be going said oneof the boys. I would. Said Nell. And I willsomday but not as a prisoner on a convictship but on a Free ship that only carriesFree people. This speech brought roars oflaughter and someone said. Beggara how bigshe talks. And Nell fleed in disgust. Some saidtheir was a wild strain in her. She loved tobe free and hated restraint. She was sentto school but was often missing from herclass when she would roam over theboggs of in the woods after birds nests orwild berries. She would tear her clotheshideing in some hedge when she saw someoneshe feared would inform on her playingthe truant. But, when in school there was onesubject that claimed her attention. That waswhen the Old School Master told them storiesabout Australia. Of the great country wherethe Lawbreakers of the Old Land were sent. Ofthe number of people that were sent to BotanyBay. Of the sufferings and cruelty that wasimposed on the Convicts in Van Deman’s Land.And they were Transported for Life in manycases for only small Offences.

Some for poching. others for small thiefts

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others for using the black to freely. Thesepeople not being naturely bad proved by theirgood conduct and obdience to disaplinthat they were worthy of their Liberty andreceived a free pardon. By hard work andhonest industry they became independant. Andnews of this kind filtered back to the oldland that Australia was a good country forfree men. And it was not long before thebetter class of the working classes of EnglandScotland and Ireland turned their attentionto Australia. And to little Nells great joyshe found herself on board the Good ShipEngland bound for Australia where herparents had determint to take their family toimprove their position. Nell was now ten yearsof age In those old sailling days it took aboutsix months to reach Australia. And she soonbecame a fiavriet with all on board shewould talk to the saillors And sing themlittle Irish songs. Life on a sailling boat needsall the passtime that can be got out ofit. But we will not dwell on the eventsof the trip. Only to say they reached theend of their journey safe and sound. Welook at this child of over eighty yearsago and think how misteraus are theways of fate. Who would have drempt of thetradegy that was to come into her life.

Chapter 2. Australia

At the time of which I write Australiawas little known in the world, and onlyexplored to a small extent. A portanof New South Wales had been settled fora number of years. But as far as Victoria

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was concerned there had been very little done.Only by squaters who had taken up largetracks of country and were raising greatnumber of sheep and cattle the Western Districtwas one of the first places to atract settlers.And Portland is one of the oldest towns inthe state. The North Eastern district of Victoriawas first enabited by Squaters whocame over land from Sydney and establishedcattle stations on the Upper Murry and aboutthe same time Wangaratta now one of the mostprosprous country towns sprung into existance.At the time when the ship enigland reachedthese shores, even Melbourne was only a verysmall place; It seems almost impossible to thinkthat the fine city with its up to date buildings itsbroad streets its up to date Tram and Railwaysistum was no more than a scattered VillageEighty years ago. But such was the case whenthe subject of our story first saw it. The familystayed about Melbourne for some little whileand eventuly settled at Donnebrook where theycarried on farming in a small way until thegold rush broak out. Then the men went to thediggins. In fact everyone that could carry apick and shuvel went. People were mad withexictment. Stations and farms were deserted Andthe Stock lefte to take care of themselves orto stray away into the bush and become wild.I would go on to write about the adventuresof those who dug and delved for gold and inmany cases never found it. For many pages. Butdonot intend to do so. But only to follow theadventurs of Nells Father and brothers. Theyfollowed the digers first to one rush thento another large quantatys of gold was unearthed andplaces that had been wild bush became big towns.

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But in many cases those who worked the hardestsecured the least. Mining has always been a gamble.Those who were luckey wanted to get more. And ingrasping after it lost what they had got. The menwho went into business did better than those who dugfor gold; because they took no resks. Graduly in mostcases the claims became worked out. And people hadto fall back on the land for a living. And it isthrough new going into the bush to look for Gold thatsome of the finest land in the world has been descovered.And today Australia can bost of being able to growthe finest wheat in the world: with new towns springingup all over the state: a new industry came to thefront. There being no Railways it required a largeNumber of teams to cart the stores to the towns thathad sprung into existance through the mining industry.And most of the diggers who had not becomeindependent. But had been able to save enoughmoney to buy a team and wagon becamecarriers and made a good income by cartingstores up country and loading back in Melbournewith wheat and other produce, And in time theysettled on the land and became prosprus farmers.So graduly the Fertile land of Victoria became settled.

Chapter 3. TownsYears have passed since the little girl in Ireland stood

watching the convict ship. She is no longer a child.but a fine dashing young woman. Full of life and spiritduring the time her Father and brothers were awayit fell to her lot to help her Mother manage thelittle farm and no girl could have done it betterthan she did. She was fond of the cows but hergreatest joy was to ride on horseback. She waswell known in the district. There were not manymen about most of them being away at the diferent

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gold rushes. But all who knew her treated herwith respect. No one would dare to do other wise.There is a time in the life of most girls when theymeet their fate. And she was no exception. A youngman came into her life: He came over from Tasmania.he stood six feet in his stockings was broad shoulderedstrong and active. In fact in every way a fine tipe ofan Athalate. One thing that made him remarkablewas his thick shock of firey red hair and busheywiskers. they called him red ned. Some say the familydid not aprove of the match. They did not beleavehe was a native of Tasmania and they had theirdoubts as to how he got there. whether this is trueor not It had no weight with the girl and theybecame devoted lovers. Ned went into the drovingbusiness; Although we are told he was a bit fond ofwhisky And at times got a drop too much.On the whole he was steday and saved enoughto make a home somewhere in the districk ofKillmore. They were married and lived in thatpart for a number of years and became th parents of seven children three boys and fourgirls all went on peaceful and they savedenough money to aquire a small property oftheir own in the North East. Where her peoplehad already gon: I shall now speak of theLady as Mrs Kelly the mother of those young menwho shocked the world by a most dreadfulcrime and held the country in fear by theirdaring exploits during their bushranging career. Ifeel disposed to write this story in an impartialway, not that I have any sympathy for crime. onthe contary I think it is imposable to maintainLaw and order if the extreme penalty of the Lawis not inforced. And think it is only just andright that he who sheeds the blood of man By manshall his blood be shed: But we should be

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careful to see that we donot judge unjustly andso make the inaccent suffer with the guilty. That wedo not rob people of what is due to them for deedsof Self sacrefice and herosam in the intrest oftheir own flesh and blood. We would not be humanif our hearts did not go out to our childrenwhen they were in disgrace. Let us see the goodpoints as well as the bad in our fellow men:And there has been much in the life of Mrs Kellythat is good. In the year 1865 her housband diedhis death was caused through drinking a spiritthat was served to him in Messtake for brandy. Lefta widow with seven Children and in a strangedistrict. She was lodging in a house at Greta onthe bank of the 15 mile creek. In the night therewas a Cry of Fire. And she escaped with herchildren in their Night Clothes all she had in theworld was gone even the few pounds she hadsave for a rainey day was burnt in the fire.The neighbours made a colection bought hersome clothes and set her up in a little housein Wangaratta where she worked hard goingout washing in the day and dressmaking atnight. And by honest industry saved enoughto take the boys on to the farm when theywere big enough to work it.

Chapter 4. The Pioneers.In the early days there was only a stock

rout for the greater part of the distance betweenthe Murry and Melbourne. Teamsters madetheir way as best they could. Foarding bridgelessrivers and ploding on through bad roadsand bush tracks: Passing through Benalla theycame to six miles of leval country. and pass throughWinton. on the seven mile Creek. A chain ofwater holes. That are dry for the greater part of

11.the summer. Winding through the hills theycome to the Eleven Mile Creek. Which at that timecontained deep holes and a never failing supply ofwater. Going up the creek they cross the rangesat what is now called Kellys gap; If weturn to the right and go to the top of the hill.We see one of the finest views in the State lookingEast we see a broad fertile vally here and thereare doted five homesteads hundreds of acres ofwheat and oats wave in the wind.and thousands of sheep and cattle are seengrazing on the rich pastur. here we see thewater of the fifteen mile creek as it sparkels inthe sunlight through the trees in the backgroundare to be seen the Buffalo Mountians part ofthe chain of the great dividing ranges. And furtheraway you see snow caped and towering abovethem Mount Bogong the second highest point inAustralia. And down the side of which the mightyavalanche sweeps carrying ruin and destructionwhere ever it flows. How wonderful are theworks of Gods creation. Our eyes turn againto the Valley and looking upon the prosperousdistrict of Greta we think of the hardyhood of theearly pioneers of men and women from EnglandScotland and Ireland. Who crossed the roaringseas in rickety Old Sailing Ships who fought thierway into the bush. Who braved daingers enduredhardships to carvout homes subdue forests andmake the desert blossom like the rose. They werethe best boldest and most thrifty of the people ofthe old world. And to them the men and womenof today are indebted for their fine homes andtheir broad acres. But they have still more tobe thankful for a noble example of honesty anduprightness of all that shows the true man It maybe said that they did not forget the things that

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are Eternal. In Greta there are three Churchesbuilt to the honour and Glory of God. The Churchof England the Roman Catholic and the Methodist.Which has a resedent minister. There is also the placeto which we are all hastening Gods acre. Therethe pioneers of the district sleep the last longsleep. One by one they have been gathered home.and now they are all gone. And the few whoare left that were children when their parentscame here. Are old men and women andtheir hair is as white as the snow on the top ofmount Bogong. But we must go back to thedays of sixty years ago and over. When theheavy waggons lumbred down the oldGap to camp at the Fifteen Mile Creek At what isnow known as West Greta. From there those who wereloaded for Beechworth or Bright went acrosscountry through Oxley. And these who hadloading for Wangaratta Rutherglen Chiltern orEldorado went to the left and reachedWangaratta after travaling about fifteen miles.

Chapter 5 Glenrowan.There being somany placses of growing importance

The Government of Victoria made a survay of what iscalled the Sydney road. It was cleared right throughbridges built and some of the worst parts of the roadformed. This was the end of the trafic throughKellys Gap. The waggonners now followed the mainroad. Or as near to it as they could. But therewas a place dreaded by both waggenars andCoach drivers. It was called the Crabholes. Andin reasent years it has been held in equaldread by motorests who knew it as the GlupotBut has now been made a good road. by theGovernment Roads Board. One of the events of the

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early days was to see the gold escort go throughsurrounded by a beavy of mounted police withtheir rifles and smart trappings. I remember whena small boy - seeing the Escort badly stuck inthe crabholes. But bat roads was not theworst that they had to contend with. The NorthEast was badly infested with bushrangers. Andif there had not been a strong force. The Goldwould have soon gone. And the Lives of themen who were in charge of it. At that timethere was only two buildings Glenrowan anHotel and store. Both owned and run by MrWm Liddle. he did busness with the carriers andthe few settlers who were within range of his placeof business At a short distance about a mile fromthe hotel was a range called Morgan Lookout. Itwas so named through the presencen of a notoriousand blood thirsty bushranger called Morganbeing in the neighbourhood of Glenrowan. Forsometime he held. the outback parts of NewSouth Wales in a State of Fear on account ofhis dreadful deed of robbray outrage andmurder. A squater from the Upper King Riverwas across the border and one morning with afriend he came on Morgans Camp. The Outlawhad gone to catch his horse and was withoutrifle or revolver. When he drew near the camp.The squatter called upon him to surrender buthe placed his hand over his heart. The manthinking he was going to draw a revolver fired.But the only damage done was to blow off thetop of his finger. and he escaped in thescrub. But he had maked his man andcame to Victoria to kill him. A deed he verynearly accomplished. He stuck up the station.and had he been content to shoot him.

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could have done so. But he was to have aworse death. The monster tied him to a post.And set two haystack on fire to slowly roasthim to death in the presance of his servents.Startled by the fire a mob of horsesstarted to gallop and the outlaw thinkingthe police were upon him decamped. Itwas then easy for one of the men to rushin cut the bonds and relias the doomedman. Morgan next appeared on the Sydneyroad about three miles on the Wangarattaside of Glenrowan. Where he robed anumber of waggoners. Just at dusk hestoped a waggoner I afterward knew well. Thelate Mr Wm Dowll. And demanded his money. Hesaid My boss is coming along the road with themoney. And he went off up the road. Dowellseeing the foolish thing he had done gave the rainsto a man he had with him and run off intothe bush with a hundred and fifty pounds.Shortly after which the highway man came back ina towering rago. And said he had been told alie and would not stand that from anyman. He would shoot the horses and burn thewaggon. The man pladed with him saying Dowellwas only a driver. And the outlaw road awaygrumbling that a deasent bushrainger could notget his rights through the lieing tongues of dishonestpeople. And the man drove to the hotel withforty pounds of his own money hidden in the tilt ofthe wagon. Dowell made his way in the darknessto the hotel and was not trubled by the outlawagain. The next day Morgan appeared at theTamanick Station then owned by the Late Mr BenWarby. But beyond giving them a fright andhaving a good meal he did not interfear withthem; He was on his way to the Pechelba Station

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about twenty miles away. Where he was to meet hisWaterloo. This Station was owned by the late MrRutherford. It was situated near the IronbarkRainges and about twenty miles from the MurryRiver. The nearst nieghbour was a Squaterabout ten miles away on the Ovens. Morganbailed up the Station Asembled all thestation hands together with the servents. and Mr &Mrs Rutherford in a large room. He made thembring him refments And he indulgedin a quantity of strong drink. One of thethings that had helped to bring him to be themonster that he was. In an half drunkenstate he was determined to make merry. Andordered his prisners to dance to music supplied byMrs Rutherford While he beet time on the pianowith his revolver. Growing tired of this he toldthem all to be silent while he pretendedto sleep with a revolver in each hand. They werein a state of Terror and were almost afraidto move for fear he would accuse some of them withatempting to escape and so make an excuse tosattisfy his thirst for human blood. He had beenknown to shoot people for sport. And commit themost dredful outrages on defenceless women. NoMans Life was safe when he was about. And all womenwithin his reach were in dainger of his feindsh lust. Butif they had only known deliverance was on the way. Hoursbefore a brave girl had creept out of the room And wasrunning for her life through the bush. She started atevery sound fearing a fate worse than death. Butfear gave her strength. And she reached the stationten miles away. In a state of great exitmentshe told her story. And then fell in a faint. Amessenge galloped to Wangaratta. And before daylightthe homstad was surrounded by police and volunteerswho had offered their servises to assist in the capture

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of the greatest monster that ever infested the Australianbush, Morgan wornout with his debauchry sleept soundly.The Terefied people could hear his hevay breathingand shuddered to think what might be their fatewhen he woak. There was a streak of light inthe East the sun roas and the dreadful nightwas over. The ruffian moved. Then growaled I mustgo. Come Rutherford. Show me your horses and Iwill take the best on the Station. They came out ofthe house. And were walking to the stables. Therewas the sharp crack of a rifle and Morganfell to rise nomore. The police were upon him.Somone said They have got you at last. And hereplyed Yes. And if the had give me a chanceI would have had some of them. So ended anevil and misspent life. His body was taken toWangaratta and buried by the police in theWangaratta cemetery where the grave. is still plainlyto be seen. He was shot by a man namedQuinlan An employee of an ajoining Station.A reward of seven hundred and fifty poundswas given him. The brave girl was also rewardedBut the money was of little use to poor Quinlan. TheTragady so prayed on his mind that he lost hisreason and ended his days in an Asylamfor the Insane

Chapter 6 The Eleven Mile CreekWe have spoken of this place before but it was in

the days when it was a stopping place for WaggonersAll that is left to show that they have been there Arethe old tracks through the bush. And the deep rutsshowing signes of many a bog; The first time I saw thisplace was on the 8th March 1866 My Father had takenup Land not far from the Winton swamp. We had justarrived from a place near Melbourne. It was a dryseason what we now call a drought: The Swamp was

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dry and we had to drive our cattle to the Creek.Many others had to do the same. And how the poorthirsty bruets quickened their pace and belowedwhen they smellt the water. How well I rememberthe old place and in fancy I can see it now as I sawit then in its wild bush state. On the hill was a largesheep fold. And on the place where Mr. Lees homstad nowstand was a shepards hut. The shepard took the sheepout on the run in the daytime and put them in thefold at night. There was a Chinees Cook and he spenthis spare time making straw bals. Which he sold for themodest sum of twenty one shillings each. On the otherside of the Creek where Mr Mat Kennellys homstadenow stands was the remains of the Old Stables whereCob and Co Mail Coaches used to chainge horses ButWinton is now the chainging station and the coachescome to the creek no more. Further south is a big hillwith very few trees on it. At that time it wascalled the big bald hill. But it is now known asHarts hill. Almost under the shadow of this hill wasthe home of a soletary settler On the bank of thecreek among the wattles: A number of willow treeshad been planted around the house and hadalready grown to a good size. The walls of thehouse was slab and the roof stringebark withsapling riders to keep the bark in its place. A numberof children were playing regardless of the lonelyness of theplace. Years went by and as a lad of aboutthirteen years of age I took my fathers cattle tothe creek. Other settlers sent their boys with cattle Ifthey had no boys they sent their girls And those whohad neither came themselves. I remember a jollyOld chap who hailed from the Emral Isles He usedto bring his milking cows from somewhere over thehills I did not know where He would set in theshade and tell yarns by the hour. One story Inever forgot. Do ye know how I got my wife Oh ye

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don’t. Well I will tell you. I was a waggnor. Andat one of the pubs I used to camp at. Therewas a powerful pirty girl. I set my cap at herbut had no luck. I had my suspicn that she hadmore than a sneaking regard for that youngdandy Jack Hogan who put all he earned on hisback So I said to meself Frank old man Ye willhave to run cunning. And I did. When I gotpaid for my loading at Beechworth I went to theBank and got it chainged into pound notes ThenI got a lot of old news papers and made a bundleas big as a bushel and carefuly covered it withthe pound notes Whin I got back to the pub. I tookit to her and said here Mary take care of thisbit of money for me. And we will think aboutgetin married. But she said Oh Frank dearsomeone might steal it We had better got married atonce And beggara we did. And that is howI beet Flash Jack Hogan. About this timeanother joined the company on the creek A boyabout my own age. He was riding a smartblack poney and proudly told us it was agalloper. And could clear any fence in thenorth East. The boy was elert and active withpercing black eyes that took in every thing at a glancehe woar straped trousers a red shirt and strawhat tilted forward Secured by a strap under hisnose. The back of his head was broad and coveredwith close croped hair as black and shiney as acrow his jaw was hevay his lips thin. And whenclosed tightly there seemed to be something cruel inthem. But when they relaxed into a smile he appearedto be a jovel good nature fellow His name wasDan Kelly and he was a great lover of horses.I was the only one of the other boys who had a horse –A bay poney. She had belonged to a clergyman andwas an honest goer. Dan run his eye over my

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horse and preposed that we should have aracse. A chalinge I gladly acepted When hefound he could not shake me off he developeda great respect for me. And declared there wasnot a Kangaroo in the haule country that couldget away from us. So we went Kangaroo huntingnot once but many times I left my cows tolook after themselves, or bribed some of the other boysto look after them for me. With the promies of somesinus out of a Kangaroos tail to make whip crackersWe sometimes saw Ned Kelly. but he was a few yearsolder than we were. and regarded himself as toobig for my company. Time went by Dan Kelly andthe creek went out of my life But I am lookingat it in 1922 how changed everything is. Theplace is all devided into paddocks. by goodfencses. where there was only one family in theearly days. there are now upwards of twenty families. Andthey have become well to do. by producing wheat andoats butter wool lambs and beef. Here rich frutgrows to perfection Who in this part has not heardof Harleys Orchard with it famous appls and orangesA lot of money has been made by cutting timberinto Railway Sleepers and Bridge timber If we lookaround we will find there is a State School Thechildren no longer run wild in the bush But areeducated and prepared to go out and fight the battleof life. If we go into the school we will see there isan Honour Board with the names of men from thedistrict who have fought and bled for the Empire Onthe wall is an enemy machine gun captured from theGermans On Sundays the building is used for a Churchand good men preach the Gospel of Christ. Telling theirhearers that God so loved the world that he gave hisonly begotten son. that who so ever beleaveth in himshall have Eternal life The place was chainged verymuch for the better. The fact that men band

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themselves together for the common good of humanityis the best proof that can be given of theadvancment of any place. No matter what it hasbeen.

Chapter 7 Bad CompanyHow many times it has been said. Evil connecation

curapts good manners, and it is a truesaying; Show me a mans compnay and I will tellyou the kind of man he is. since our firstparents fell. and brought on the humanrace the wrath of God: The earth has been fullof sin and wickedness. and the world was condemedto bring fourth thorns and briers. How they growThe richer the ground the more they thrive: theplank is more easley trained in the way natureinclines it to grow. So Ned Kelly became aneasay prey to an unscruplas scoundral andbrought upon his family ruin disgrace and the illwill ofthe public. This man William Power by name was aconvicted criminal and a daring ruffian He chose theNorth East for his expoits of highway robery under arms.he was cunning and carried out many a deep layedplan. he would disapear for a time, and thepolice would be hunting for him without beingable to find a clue as to his whereabouts; Then peoplewould be shocked by a daring coach robery in alocality where it was least expected he would be Itmight be the Bright the Beechworth the Yackandudahcoach or a coach on the way to some township onthe Upper Murry He was never known to take humanlife but doubtless he would have donso had he notsuceeded in frightening his victans into quick submison,he was rough and course, nasing a lot of profaneoaths. The women were insulted and bulleyed byhim. But only in one case has he been said to goas far as actual voilance. Holding his revolver

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to a woman’s head he ordered her to strip off allher clothes in the presence of all the other passengers.The poor woman in tears and trembling with fearprotested. The highwayman relented. And said thatafter all he would be to mean of him to compelher to do it. An amusing story was told by thelate Mr Robert McBrin J.P. At the time owner ofthe Tatong Station Riding through the bush oneday he meet a man on horseback. Andmistaking him for one of the station hands hesaid good day Bill Said Mr McBrin. I found myselflooking into the barral of a revolver. And a grufvoice said confound your impendance. I will teachyou how to speak to a gentleman Fancy yourcalling me Bill. hand over your watch andchain and your money. I am Mr Power. It has beensaid by other writers that the watch and chain wasreturned. But I never heard so from Mr McBrin whowas a personal friend of mine. At any rate I amquit shure it was not returned in the waystated. Neither did the person who was held respon-able for returning it had anything to do with it;that there were a number of dishonest people in leiguewith the robber was quit apparent. While othersrefrained from giving information for fear of violenceit became noised abroad that young Kelly had joinedhands with Power he had been seen in his company. Butthe worst that could be said was that he wassuspected of aiding and abating him in his deed ofcrime by letting him know the movmants of the police orbringing him provisions and at most holding the horseswhile Power commited the robberys. But there was noproof that he did any of these things. Powers placeof hiding was on the Upper King River. His camp hadbeen found diferent times But the bird had alwaysflown; The only way to reach his hiding place was througha narrow gourg past a farm hous The farmer had some

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peacocks and while it was passable to decive the dogs. The peacock always gave a loud cry. This alarmed the Bushrainger. And the police would find nothing but a deserted camp a smoldring fire and a few empty fish tins. But one wet night four policemen guided by a black tracker creept past without alarming the bird: They found Power asleep. Covering him with their revolvers made him a prisner He stood his trial was convicted of highway robery under arms. And sentanced to fifteen years hard labour in pentrige jail. The term of his natural life. But he lived to serve his sentance and regain liberty: A benevlent lady made him her gardner and he lived in comfard. And loved to tell of his exploits untill he died a very old man. But he had sown the seeds of sin in a young heart that were to ripen into deeds of crime far worse than he had commited: How these thorn and brais grow He had talked to Ned Kelly about a easey living. And had laughed at the idiea of honest work. Kelly was soone on the downward road and found himself in the hands of the police charged with cattle stealing Stood his trial at Beechworth found guilty and sentance to eighteen months hard labour in pentrige jail. This was before the North Eastern Railway line was compleated. And the line was only opened as far as Longwood. My Father went there on busness and took me with him. I saw the coach arrive surrounded by a strong escort of police saw Kelly taken off the coach saw him placed in a railway carrage. Oh the thorns and Briers I saw this fair youth manacled to an old man by the degraded look on his face it was plain his life had been spent in sin. The Thorns and the Briers had filled his heart there was no room for honesty. No room for virtue in his besoted soul And now he has a puple in the boy handcuffed at his side. He will not fail to drag deeper into the meir and clay of sin: If our prison sistam could be so

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arranged that young offenders could be kept apart from hardened crimanels it would give them a chance to reform. And there would be less excuse for them going wrong after they had served their first sentance When Ned Kelly came out of prison he came back to the creek. And made an atempt to earn an honest living by horsebreaking I remember that he broak in a horse for my Father. At that time a great part of the country was still open. And young horses were alowed to roam about in the bush. I shall never forget the wild gallop we had after those horses They had not been yarded for many months and were determend that they were not going to be We chased them over hills and through swamps I could not help thinking what a dashing fearless fellow Ned Kelly was And a companion he had with him who was known as Bricky was if possable more reclass: At length the horses were yarded. And Ned was soone on the back on the one he was to breakin. He took it away and returned it in due course But he had been in jail and a great many people avoided him. and he was seen less and less on the creek. His bad company had leed him to be not only dishonest but discontented and his brooding led him into a carear of crime that ended in his death on the Gallos.

Chapter 8 The Thunder Clouds Brim

In September of the year 1877 On the Creek All nature was at its best the birds were singing on the trees. The little busy bees were huming As they flew from flower to flower or sucked the honey from the blossom of the great Ironbark Trees The creek along its winding course is lined with wattles. All in a blaze of golden glory under the shade of a big box tree a Young man is seated on a horse. he is tall and dark there is

24.something striking about his face. You would not call it hansom. There was somthing about his eyes that was hard to understand. And every few minits he took up the valley as if expecting someone. Now let us look at the horse. It is a lovely dappld bay, It tosses it head and paws the ground with its front feet. It is well shod and well groomed by its aperance we would say it is a Troopers horse we look closely and see by the brands that it is. The horse lifts up its head and gives a loud neigh. We hear the sound of horses hoofs and we see a horsman coming down the creek But when the rider draws near we see it is not a man. but a woman riding a stride. This is a uncomman sight for in those days riding astride was regarded as an ofence against deasency. But this is only a girl in her teens. But a girl of bewiching beauty her featurs are well rounded her eyes are large and dark and her long black wavey hair and the flush of health in her face makes her look a perfect picture By the way they meet we see they are not straingers Their horses are drawn up close together The man places his hand on her horses wither and wispers in her ear the old old story of love, and the girl drew back with a long harsh laugh. And then her eyes filled with tears and she said no that is imposable. Shurly you have thought of my brothers Ned has already been in jail and people say dreadful things about him, You have so maintain the Law. and it would be bad for us both. But his answer was Kate my love I would give up anything go throug anything for you. If you had only known I have warded off suspicon against your brothers many times and she said Oh don’t speak about them it hurts me. But his tongue was lused. and he poured out such a story of love and flattery that it was no wonder she was carried away by him: She broke of a peace of wattle and with the golden spray play fuly pretended to beet him off.

25.When he pleaded for just one kiss and it did not end

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with one but many kisses. He had won her heart. but she was taking no risks. And when he preposed that they should get off their horses and sit on the nice soft grass she tuched her horse and was gone like a flash. This was only one of many meetings during the next few months. He grew bolder sometimes calling at her mothers house. There were reports of cattle stealing in the district. Dan Kelly was suspected and a warant had been ishued for his arrest. But he was suposed to have escaped to another part of the state. In 1878 constable Fitzpatrick road up to Mrs Kellys house: and to his suprise the first person he saw was Dan Kelly. Here was a chance to arrest him he had not got the warant with him but he would chance taking him without it prehaps it might mean premotion to him and what ever feeling there might be would soon blow over: so he put him under arrest Dan said very well I will go with you. but I supose you will let me have my dinner first Glad of the chance to show kindness he gave his consent during the diner there was a brall; The policman was knocked unconchous. when he recovered his prisner had escaped and his helmet was smashed by a blow. He returned to Benalla with a bullit hole in the sleave of his coat. He swoar that while Dan Kelly was having his diner Ned Kelly appeared at the door and fired several shots at him. At point blank rainge. And Skillon a son in law of Mrs Kellys and a man named Williams covered the constable with revolvers while the Kellys escaped. And Mrs Kelly hit him on the head with the fire shovel. Mrs Kelly and the two men werearrested and stood their Trial. Mrs Kellys sworn statement was that while Dan was having his dinner her daughter came into the room and the constable threw his arms around her and kissed her this so enraged the mother that

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she picked up the fire shovel and knocked him sencless. If there was a bullit hole in his coat he must have fired it himself Dan was the only man present: Both Skillan and Williams swor they were nowhere near the place and know nothing about the affair; on the face of this all three were found Guilty Mrs Kelly was sentanced to three years imprisonment, and the men to five years hard labour each. It dos not seem like British Justice to impose such a sevear sentance On the uncarobated evedence of one witness taking it for granted that the evedence for the defence was weak. And that it was not beleaved by the jury. The punishment was unduly sevear. How natural it is for people to look for the worst rather than the best that can be found in their fellow-men. If we commit a breach of the Law we have to suffer. And the worst of it we are not the only ones who are held responcable we have forfeted the honor of the name of the family to which we belong: It was the case with the unhappy Kelly Family. The state of the country at that time lent itself to deeds of dishonesty princaply cattle stealing. Many thousand of acres were still open. and the greater part of it hilly bush country Farmers at Winton and other places turne their dry cattle and young stock into the bush. Alowing them to roam about at will. Some of them were not seen for months It was quit eacey for cattle thieves to drive them off. And sell them in somother part of the state. This was often don. Ned Kelly was a convicted thief: But there were many others just as bad. And some of them sheltered behind him. The old saying give a dog a bad name and he will keep it, and in most cases make it worse. The family were not naturely bad. A statement I think I will be able to prove in this story Indeed I will go further and say there was a lot of good in them. There were two things that led them astray: The lawless State of the country and the lack of parential restraint. The severe sentance passed on Mrs Kelly prevented her from exerciseing what

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little influence she might have had on her Sons. The thunder clouds had burst. And it ment tens of thousands of pounds to the country. And the loss of many lives.

Chapter 9 Murder at the Stringiebark Creek in the Wombat Ranges.

The Kelly brothers had started their carear of crime They had ben weighed in the balance and were determend to set at defiance Law and order For sometime their whereabouts could not be found then it became known that they were hiding in the Strinngiebark rainges in the Tumbelup district It was wispered that two others had joined the gang. This proved to be too true; Their names were Steve Hart from South Wangaratta and Joe Burns from the Woolshed near Beechworth. They proved a most formidable combination. And were determined to stop at nothing They had large numbers of relations Some respectable law abiding people who deeply deplored the disgrace the gang had brought upon them While others openly aided and abated them if not in their crimes. In assesting them to escape the avenging hand of justice. It has always been evedent that men who defy the law bare the sympathy of a large number. They are the people that are against the Government and they were never more in Evidence than during the reigien of the Kelly Gang. A party of four policemen were sent to the Stringebark Rainges to capture the escaped Ned. But they little knew the desprat nature of the under taking they had in hand and that the dead bodies of three of them would be brought out of the hills on pack horses. The party was led by Sergant Kennady a brave and efficient officer from Mansfield. The names of the other men were Mackntyre, Scantan and Lonergan. They were drawn from diffrent small Towns. In the case of Lonergan. there was an evedence of presentement – how things are hard to understand. they may or may not

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25be from the Spirit world; How many cases have we heard of during the dread ful world wide war. Where men who have brave dangers and have lead wonderful ascapes in many a bold charge have ad last gonowt with a strange forboding that they would never return. And in most cases it has come true. It was so in Lonergans case. He had kissed his wife and children bidding them a loving farewell mounted his horse and read away somdistance when he turned around came back dismounted and took them one by one in a long affectinate embrace he pressed them to his heart. This was the last time they were do be in the arms and caress the lips of a good housband and kind father All went well with them. And they reached the Rainges without adventur But it was thought their movements were watched and word given that the police were coming On their arrival at Stringiebark Creek they found unmistakeable signes that there had been someone there not long before. But the men they wanted were nowhere to be seen They piched their tent and made themselves comfortable for the night. In the morning the sun was bright & clear. The bush was alive with the songs of the bush. They heard chatter of the parrots the screech of the gan gans and in the distance the cry of a dingo But the wilde hills seemed to contain no human life After breakfast they made a search around the camp but discovered nothing. After looking to their weapons; Kennedy and Scanlon went down the creek on horse back to look for tracks. And Lonergan and Mackintyre stayed at the camp to cook the dinner, he was so engaged when he heard someone call out bail up. He saw that four men: had him covered with rifles; Being a brave man he was not going to fall into their hands without

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trying to make a fight of it. But no sooner did he place his hand on his revolver that he fell dead with a rifle bullet through the brain. Mackintyre came out of the tent. and seeing the fate of his comrade he held up his hands and was made prisoner. They searched him and made him stand back while one of the disprados stood guard over him Why did you shoot Lonergan said he. Because he would have shot us said they. Then they grew elert. In the distance could be heard the sound of the tramp of horses feet. and man’s voiceses. The two other troopers were drawing near. Ned Kelly said to Mackintyre if you play the game we will not hurt you. But if you get up to any tricks you will die. Go and meet your mates. and get them to surrender to avoid bloodshed. He did so. But they were men of courage and scorned such a thing. Scanlon wass carrying a rifle slung over his shoulder secured by a strap. No sooner did he put his hand on it than a shot made the forest ring and he fell dead with a bullet through his throat Sergant Kennedy still undaunted sprung from his horse intending to use it for a cover while he fought the murders of his comrades. No sooner did he dismount than Mackintyre sprung on the horse from the other side and galloped away followed by a shower of bullets some of which wounded the horse still he pressed on Leaving poor Kennedy to his fate. At last the horse fell dead. Then he run as far as his legs would carry him. So terefied was he that he crept into a large wombat hole where he remained for the day: We can emagin the extream horror of his position and the desprat thoughts that would pass through his mind There was no hope for Kennedy they would kill him Then they would track the horse. and would be shure to find his hiding place. And will

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for they know dead man will tell no tales. A mob of Kangaroos scamped through the bush and he starts with a cry upon his lips. they are here Oh that his end may be swift and painless. But no all is silant again. He is cramped from the position he has been in the movement has hurt him and he is unable to restrain a groan. greet drops of cold perspration fall from his face. hours seem like years. At last it is dark. he comes from his hiding place. His limbs are numbed and refuse to move little by little his strength return to him and he is able to start on his long journey. The Church Bells are ringing in Mansfield. the people are on their way to the diferent paces of worship They are suprised at the apearnce of a man with his cloths toarn and tattered draging himself wearily along the street; never had he heard such sweet music as the bells were to him that day. and little did the people dream of the grim tradegy he was about to reveal. The district was shocked at the dreadful murder. And a strong force was soon organised to go in persuit of the murderers It was dark when they reached Stringiebark Creek. The Kellys were gone. The police tent was still there and the bodies of Lonergan and Scanlan were soon found. Kennedys body was found som distance from the others He evidently had made a running fight and was overtaken and killed. His face was disfigured. Some were of the opinion that the gang torchered him to compell him to give them information they wanted: I am more inclined to think the damage was done by wild dogs or dingos that infested the rainges. The bodies of the murdered troopers were taken to Mansfield where they were buried: A monument was erected in the town in memory of the police who were murdered by the Kelly gang at Stringiebark Creek.

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Chapter 10 OutlawedAn inquest was held on the bodies at Mansfield

where Mackintyre gave his stareling evedence Some say he was a coward to desert his Sergant But it is evedant that his position was desprat and had he remained there would have been very little chance of his life being spared. It is a good thing that he escaped. Or the whole business might have remained a mistry for all time. At the inqest a verdic of wilful murder was brought in against Ned Kelly Dan Kelly Joe Burns and Steav Hart. The Victorian Government declared them to be Outlaws and placed a reward of one thousand pounds each on their heads dead or alive. The public were shocked at the dreadful outrage they had comitted. And it was thought that the avenging hand of justice would soon be upon them But in this they were doomed to disapointment; There is in every country a large number of dishonest people who have no respect for the law. They hate as well as dread the uneform of the police. Another class are the relatives of criminals they are not dishonest themselves and have no sympathy with deeds of Volance. Yet the ties of nature are so strong that they are unable to resist the temptation to keep silance or even to refrain from assisting them to escape if it was in their power to do so. Bushranging was always very expencive So many had to be bribed by what was called bush money and they employed Spies to let them know when dainger was near. Such unprincipled Scoundrals are unfortuatly far too numrous. They neither care for the Law or the Law breaker All they want is monetry gain for themselves. The trail was followed by the police from Stringiebark Creek further into the Ranges. But was soon lost in the Rough Country Days lengthened into weeks and weeks into months Still they seemed no nearer discovering the wherabouts of the outlaws; the police force was strengthened and their pay was dubbled Hundreds of men were employed scowring the North East in the parts where it was thought they might be but all without success Mrs Kelly was liberated from jail and allowed to go home. In the hope that

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the sons would visit their Mother But they kept away. Two of the daughters Kate And Grace were both Expert horse women. They had enereted some of the wild spirit of the bush And loved to gallop over the rainges. Many an Oldman Kangaroo has looked back with fear in his eyes. When Kate was in hot pursut on her dashing bay. The police thought that these excurtions into the hills might lead to a clue And they were sheddowed. But all to no avail. They were never seen to meet anyone; Then They pulled down the Mothers house. And did not leave a stick or a stone standing. Mrs Kelly had another house built on the other side of the Creek. There were reports that the Outlaws had been seen in somplace. The police would rush off only to meet with disapointment or to hear that they were in somother place a hundred miles away. And so It went on month after month At length some enterprizing person envented a story that they had escaped from Australia on a boat that sailed from Sydney. bound for America Ned disguised as a Clergyman And two of the other Outlaws as women. There were some who were foolish enough to beleave it But the police were unshaken in their belief that the gang were still in the district. Where they were will never be known; But it was evedent that they were in Close tuch with a number of sympathisers; They have been credited by some writers with sticking up stores and robing people on the roads. I think I am safe in saying they never did anything of the kind They only played for big Game. And Ned Kelly could almost be regarded as a sort of a Robbin Hood robing the rich and giving to the poor. It is a very great pitty that his talents were used in the wrong direction. His Bank Roberys were Couningly pland. And carriedout like Clockwork.

Chapter 11. The Euroa Bank RoberyThey had been in hiding for many months and it was

evedent they were short of funds. And their Unknown agents would be growings restless And wanting to know if harbering them

33.was worth the risk. If they were to get nothing for it So they made their plans to rob the Euroa Bank. They cut the Telegraph wires on both sides of the Town and stuckup a cattle station about four miles on the Benalla Side of Euroa they made prisners of all the people on the station one man A scotch man refused to go into the room Ned Kelly put the revolver in his mouth and …he said Man I smell pooder the now. I will do what ever you want me to do Making their prisners secuar they took two of the buggies from the Station they drove into Euroa a little before three oclock. At the most busy time of the day. So well did they lay their plans that they were able to comit the robery Close the Bank and take the manegar and his wife and children together with the Clerks and drive them all off in the presence of a Street full of people. On their way to the Station on the main road the meet a funril and pulling to the side stoped removed their hats and beared head sat in a state of reverance untill it has passed Siveral of the Bankers friends were in the proseson noded to him. Thinking he was out for a pleasure trip with some friends. Never dreaming that the party were being carried off by a band of Outlaws Together with Eight thousand pound from the Bank. When they arrived at the station the gaurd reported all well. the prisoners had been orderly and well behaved; Another man had been added to the number a hawker of drapery He was brought out to show the good he had in his wagon; They bought four suits of cloths And paid him for them with some of the gold they had taken from the Bank. Then they demanded refreshmets. And after having a harty meal. were preparing to take their departur. Dan Kelly siaed while you are packing up. I will go and have a bit of fun with one of the women. But Ned answred him very crossly. You will do nothing of the kind while I am the leader of this gang. No woman shall be molested And I insist on every member of my party treating all women with respect. The horses were sadded the money straped on them The Outlaws road away. With the thret than anyone who

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Chapter 12. Unsccessful pursuit.For simetime the people who had passed through such a startling experance sat looking at eachother almost afraid to speak or even move. The Gang had ridden away into the night. But who could say that they had not returned, and they might even now be laying in wait to shoot anyone that would make bold to try to get away to spread the news of their desprat doings. At last a move was made and there was no signe of the robers being about; The Banker and his party were driven into Euroa. The News soon spread of the daring exploit of the Kelly gang; an attempt was made to wire the news to Melbourne and Benalla But the farsight of the Gang prevented that being acomplished. Indeed they were bold enough to be seen cutting the wires when a train was passing; The train crew thought they were experts repairing the line: No Message could be sent untill some men went to Longwood on a Railway Trolley The news was Telegraphed to Melbourne. A Special train was despached with a strong force of mounted Police and black trackers They arrived at Euroa early the next morning But the outlaws had got a long start. The Trail was easy to find. It led in the direction of the Starthbogie Rainges. They came on severl camps But the wanted men were never sighted. Then the tracks went into the Rainges. Still they followed them over hills up creeks through mountian passes and along bridle tracks. The traveling was becoming hard for both men and horses. And they were in great danger of being shot down from some Ambush No one knows the risk they had taken. Only those who have been in these placses. There are Caves so inexcessible. that one man could defy a whole company. Still they pressed on mile after mile. At length they came to a peace of Tableland Here there had been a reasent camp the fire was still smorlding. but there was no signe of anyone being in locality. What was the

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Straingest thing of all was, there was a jumble of fresh tracks made leading in ever so many diferent directions. They tryed first one track and then another But all without success. They would go through the scrub and disappear on the rocks. It was impossable to follow them. And the police had to confess that they were beeten. And tired wornout and disheartened they returned to Euroa. No neare to solving the mistry than Ever. The outlaws had disapeared as compleatly as if the earth had opened and swallowed them up. Therey after therey was advanced. Only to be rejected as imposable It is quit evedent they could not have done what they did without a large number of acompicses. Or what is known as sleeping partners. It is most likly that there were a number of others in the plot and it was part of the program that they should meet them on the tableland; or be there waiting for them when they came there they would deved up the cash. And go away in diferent directions. It was evedent the gang did not go to the part where the police expected to find them. It is a well known fact that he had relatives in many parts of the state and a number of friends unknown to the police. These friends would gladly shelter them because they knew they would be well paid. These young desprados knew the country from the Murry to the sea. they had been over it many times And had trained their horses to mountian climbing And would ride over hills and through trackless rainges. Where no other horse man would dare to follow. It has been said – But I do not know on what athority that when they succeeded in throwing their pursuers off their track. They went streght across the rainges into Gippsland where in many parts they could go about unsuspected. They were credited with going into Bairnsdale to buy provisions on more than one ocasion. And it is quit likly they did. The Police were

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looking for four men when often there was only one. There was a wild story told that they were hiding in the Buchan caves. I don’t give it much credit at that time they were unknown. To anyone who has seen them of resent years. With the electric light shining on their sparkling cristals they would appear to be an ideal place to hide in. when they were in their wild state It was a well known fact that they visited Orbost And it was suposed that they had relations there. This is a story that I think there is no foundation for. In any case they did not stay anywhere long They were fleeing from the Avenger of blood And were at enmity with the world. They had broken the Laws of God and of mand. And thoughts of their evil deeds were ever with them. In the dark they would start at the slightest sound. They would see the bodies of their victoms laying Stif and Stark. Or the pleeding eyes of sergant Kennedy when he beged them to spare his life for the sake of his wife and children. They flattered themselves with the thought that they had only taken human life when it was to save their own. What right had people to stand in the way of their evil deeds. If they did they were prepared to take more life. How hardened men can become: What right had they to take other peoples property: What right had they to make widows and fatherless children; the blood of three honest men was crying out for vengance. The Mills grind slowly. but they grind excedingly small. So they could not shak off the thoughts of the dreadful fate that was to overtake them They dreaded the police. But they could outwit them But they could not get away from their own thoughts And there were always with them like some horid nightmare; what could they do where could they go. They would think out places for their escape. Then they would. scare them as weak and Cowardly. They would not try to get away. But would plan fresh roberys they would show their cuning their daring and skill from time to time they get news of the police They read in the papers where the police were hot on their track. They were either going to overwhelm them or starve them out. They laughed when they knew this was going to be done hundreds of miles

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from where they realy were. The man in the street was saying we have heard the last of the Kellys: They have got out of the country. And by this time are the other side of the world. Money is the great power. With that they can go anywhere: But they had no intention of Leaving the country even if they could they had made a studyof what they were going to do. They had arrainged another Bank robery that was to be a greater success than Euroa

{The following pages are unreadable as the pencil writing has faded too much.}

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42.42. For all the success the searchers meet with the Gang might

have been in Greenland. While the mistery had deepened. They were laying their plans for a still more daring outrage. they were prepared to undertake anything. So far everything had gone well with them they had been Able to baff et their purseurs. and woebetide the man who dared to stand in the way of their plans. They were drunk with succes. And thought no skill could conqeat with their cunning; They are like the Elusive Pimpernel; We seek him here. we seek him there Those Frenchies seeks him every where. Is he in heaven, is he in hell, that damned elusive Pimpernel They hat though out a sceam by which they were to be proof against rifle bullet. One morning when a number of the farmers in Greta went out to plough. They found that the mouldboard had been stolen. Brown Smith and Jones meet in Wangaratta. They had all come for the some purpas. To order new mouldboard They are soon joined by five or six more angrey farmers who had come in for the same purpas. It was most anoying that their ploughing should be delayed. And they were loud in the condemnation of the silly practical joke of some brain less hoolegans: Most likely their boards were laying at the bottom of some dam in the district. And would not be found untill the next drought came. And not a few of the angrymen said damn Suspsequant events proved it was not a joke But a deep layed plan. The gang had secured the servicess of a blacksmith to make the stolen mouldbards into suits of armour The man was a farmer who had Been working in the district: Noone would suspect him he was a good man. And never failed to attend Church. And the Methodist Church at that He always staid for the prayer meetings and was deeplygrived at the dishonesty of the mean theaf who stoal the Farmers mouldboards. The blacksmith disapeared shortly after the boards were taken. And was never seen again. It was thought he had been well paid and betook himself to fields green and pastures new There was much talk as to where and how the armour was made. It is quit evedent the work was done in the Bush. There is the place in the Rainges. Only known to a few. Who called it the devils bason. It was only accessable

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from one point. And that was so overgrown with scrub and undergrowth as to make the entrance hard to find. It was thought that this is the safe retreat where the smith worked with hamer and tongs. The measurment of the man must have been taken Every suit fitted perfictly The armor was Clevarly made protecting the whole of the body. The front and back plates were joined at the side with ringes and fastened with a clasp on the oppesit side. So that the owner could be quickly removed. There was a sort of Apern to protect the Upper parts of the legs. And shoulder plates for the shoulders. The helmet was made of three peaces of Mouldboard. The two front plates were revated to the back plate and a slit left for the eyes. When woarn the weight of the helmet rested on the shoulders of the body plates; Ned Kellys Armor weighed between eighty and ninty pounds; The others were not so heavy At the time of the capture of Ned Kelly at Glenrowan I had the novel exirance of tryin on the armor. And I saw destintly the stain of sap from a green tree. This proved is had been made in the bush. And turned into shap on logs. Cut for the purpas.

Chapter 15 The Murder at the Woolshed.It has often been said that there is honor among theaves, and it is true in many cases they will suffer rather than betray their friends. Very few will be tempted by money but those who are, bring upon themselves the hatred and revenge of those they have betrayed.

The Gang have been hiding in perfict safety and could have remaned there untill the want of funds compelled them to make another raid. But One of their friend had proved false and they knew it. so determind that he must die.They would use his death as a decoy fore their much hated puccuers (pursuers) and be revenged on the

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police. For years there had been a compact between Kelly and Burns. They were both wild sons of the hills. Burn’s mother lived in the Woolshed district and living not far from her was his cousin. A young man named Aron Sheratt who had been in close tuch with the movments of the gang. He was an aquaintance of the Kelly Family for years. Some have gone as far as to say there was a love affair between him and Kate. I donot think there is much grounds for the statement. If he was a rejected lover he soon consoled himself with another. He had been married for some time. He was suspected of being one of a party who meet the gang in the hills after they robed the Euroa Bank and assisted in carrieing off the spoil. He was arristed and put in jail but there was no proof of his quilt. The Kelly scare became so great that efforts to capture the gang were dublled. Not only police, but scoars of detecteves were employed. They were on Railways train, working in placerss of Busness, carrying their swags on the roads. Some disguised as Tramp beged their bread in order to gain information that was not to be got. The police went into the Rainges, made camps. As it were, played at Bushraingeing. Sheritt was still in the pay of the outlaws, but was also in the pay of the police. He was doing well, his victoms did not suspect him. Soon the police would be hot on the trail. He had visions of wealth and comfort. When the gang were all dead, he would go away where he was not known and live on the reward. He used his

45.house as a secret meeting place for the police in the night. Often they were hiding there in the day. There was a police camp in the Rainges near Beechworth. It was well hidden by rocks and scrub. They were waiting for Sherett to bring them news. But their presence was known to someone else. An Old woman was laying in the rocks overlooking the camp. Day and night she had been there. Aran Sherett had got news of the gang and came to the camp to tell the police; She saw him and it sealed his doom. Dan Kelly and Burns went to his house one dark night. Kelly knocked at the door and called Aron, In an assumed voice. Sherett opened the door, but no sooner did he show himself than Burns shot him, and he fell dead at his wife’s feet. They made a big heap of wood at the end of the house and set it on fire, but the wood was damp, the fire went out and the house was saved. Ned Kelly and Steve Hart were already in the Glenrowan district and the other two outlaws galloped off to join them. The public were shocked at the cold blooded murder of a police agent, and prompt measurs were taken to bring the murdirs to book. Ned Kelly forsaw this.

Chapter 16 The Breaking up of the Gang.Something has been said about Glenrowan in the early part of my story, but that was in the Sixtys. It is now 1880. Years have passed. They have brought many chainges. The Waggoners nolonger wipe and slash and swar to get their heavy waggons through the crabholes. The crack of the mail coach man’s whip is forgotten. All these things are out of date and have been replaced by the Railway. Many new settlers have come to the

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district. Prospraus homes have sprung up in Glenrowan, Tamanick and North Winton, and even the dreaded crabholes have been divided up into farms. William Liddle and many others have passed away. The hotel and store are still standing. But have long since been closed and used as private houses. There is a state school on the other side of the Sydney Road. This place was not suitable for a Railway Station. It has been built about a mile nearer Wangaratta. A small township has grown around it. There are two hotels, a store and a few private houses. On the north side, the hotel is keept by Mrs. Jones and south of the line the hotel was keept by Paddy McDonal. The Railway station was failrly large one. A large quantaty of wheat, oats and other farm produce is delivred there. The Post office was at the Railway station. Now let us look at the year 1922. It is still small. There is only one hotel. It is a large one and is well conducted. After the Kelly capture a licance could neve be got for Mrs Jounes house. It has been rebuilt twice, and is now run as a wine shop There are two stores a Baker’s and a Butcher’s shop, a Blacksmiths Shop and a Post Office. There is a Shire Stone Crushing Plant that gives employmen to a number of men and for that reason there are more private houses. There is also a Wood Mill. The School was removed into the township over thir[t]y year ago. The old Store was pulled down, and the bricks used to build a Police station near the Railway Station. There are three Churches – Church of England, Roman

47.Catholic and Methodist. With all this evedence of man’s repentance, it can be said it has changed for the better. The old people are gone and there are only a few alive who took part in the Kelly Capture. At the time people were talking about the dredful murder, and arraingment were being made to despach a special train load of police to Wangaratta, Ned Kelly was in Glenrowan working out his plans to entrap them.

They made their headquarters at Joneses hotel. It was an easy matter to round up the few people who lived in the township. Having done this, they told the Station master he would have to go with them and make a breach in the line. He said he knew nothing about that kind of work and would be quit unable to do it. They then called upon the line repairers. One staid on guard and the others forced the men to go at the point of the revolver, get the tools out of the shed, put them on a trolley and take them to a place about a quarter of a mile from the station. There they stood over them and made them takup two lengths of rails. The place was chosen for the villainas purpos. There was a curve in the Line, a high embankment, a culvert and a deep ravin into which the train would have fallen. The police took the precaution of running a pilot engine in front of the train. But, even this would not have saved them. The curve was so sharp that they would not have seen the pilot go over. The gang were going to be there and shoot at who were not killed in the wricked train. If their plans had carried, it would have been the most dreadful outrage in the histry of crime.

Their work done and the trap set, they

48.returned to the hotel to sleep in turns while one watched. The prisoners could get no rest being all packed in one room. Sunday morning was spent in rounding up more prisoners.

At the time of the Kelly scare, there was a policeman stationed at Glenrowan but he lived in the old store. They went there and took him by surprise, handcuffed him and sent him off to the hotel. His wife was in bed with a baby a few days old. Ned Kelly said it would not be safe to remove her. He turned back the wraps and looking at the child said, “You are a fine little chap. I might be worth a thousand pounds to you somday”. Then he went to the school and told the teacher to put his horse in the buggy and take his wife and child to the hotel. Mr. Curnow was a cripple. He had a short leg. He could walk but was very lame. He was a man of quick thought and great courage and when he found how things were he determened if possable to get the gang to beleave that he was with them, which he succeeded in doing.

The afternoon and evening was spent in dancing to the music of an accordian. Curnow talked a lot with Ned Kelly. Arguing with him over his plans and flattering him and encouraging him to drink freely, and so far gaind his point, that Kelly told him to go home, but said, “Mind you don’t dream too loud. As you do, you will be a dead man.”

When Curnow reached home, he took the horse out of the buggy and put the saddle and bridle on him. His wife said, “What are you going to do?”

“Ride to Benalla,” he answered.“If you do,” said she, “they will come and shoot me and

the child.”

49.“If I don’t go,” said he, “hundreds of lives will be lost.

My duty is plain, and I must do it.” At that moment, he heard a train in the far distance. There was not a minut to luse. He run into the house, got a peace of candle and a peace of red cloth and rushed to the railway line (a distance of about 150 yards) and reached there just in time to light his candle and stop the pilot engine. The train drew up and he told them that the line was toarn up on the other side of the Station and the Kelly Gang were in Joneses hotel.

After giving this information, he refused to board the train, prefering to go back and defend his wife & child, and if needs be, die for them. They gave him a revolver and he went back. If he had not stoped the train, it would have ment death to all on board. Curnew preformd a deed for Australia and for humanity that few have ever equalled. Mr Curnow after wards said when he was on his way, he thought his last moments had came.He heard something coming to meet him. It must be one of the gang, but it was a goat and he was so panic stricken that he nealy shot the poor beast.

Up at the hotel, they heard the train coming, and the faces of the impresoned people were transfixed with horror as they thought of the crash that was to come in a few minuits, Of the orgie of blood. But the train stoped. Ned Kelly. Sprung up, with a curs upon his lips. “We have been betrayed. It is Curnow or Mrs. Bracken. I will go and shoot the lot”. But, he did not have time. The train was coming full steam ahead and stoped at the station. The gang knew that the cat was out of the bag but they would put up a fight.

50.50. The braks had not stoped grinding when twenty-five

shots were fired from the hotel varanda. Most of them hit the train but beyond breaking a few windows, no damage was done. Then begun a battle that lasted alnight.

The tactics adopted by the police is a blacks spot on the police histry of Australia. There was a washed out drain between the hotel and the station. In this drain, a number of the police took shelter. They had been ordered to keep up a constant fire on the hotel. There were forty inacent people imprisoned, consisting of men, women and children. Their position was desprat. They were all layind flat on the floors. Some with people laying across their legs, other with somone on their arms.

The outlaws were standing up trying to shoot the police from the windows but they had their armour on. Time after time they beged to let them go out, but the answer they got was, “you are safer here. Stay with us.”

Joe Burns was standing in the bar, drinking a glas of brandy and as he roas it to his lips, he said, “Here’s to many happy years in the bush.” He fell dead with a bullet in the groin.

About this time, Mr Stanstreet creept out. A scoar of rifles were leaveled at him, but he threw up his hands calling out, “Station Master!”

About this time the trouper got out of the building and they informed the police officers that there were still thirty-eight servilians in the hotel. Still the firing went on until the wall were like a sive. At last Dan Kelly said, “You can go out if you like.” They made a rush but were met by a hot rifle fire. Mrs. Rearden was carrieing a baby. A bullet passed through it hood but never hurt the child.

51.51. John Jones, a young lad, the son of the lan lady was shot

and died the next day. His sister was wound and died three months after. Micel Rearden was shot in the chest and is still carrieing the bullet within an inch of his heart. The Government have been paying him a pound a week for forty-two years. A sum of two thousand, one hundred and eighty-four pounds.

I knew a man named Marten Cherry, a repairer on the railway line. He was an Irishman of the good old School. A merry old soul, his Irish wit and humor mad him good company and he was always welcome where ever he went. Somone told him the Kellys were at Joneses hotel. He said, “I don’t beleave it. I will go and see.” He went, but it cost him his life. Laying on the floor in a back room, he was suffering greatly. His limbs were cramped and numed from laying on the hard boards. A man named Larkins was lying beside him. Hearing the crowd go out of the hotel and noteing that there was a lull in the fireing, he preposed that they should go out. Cherry said, “No we are safer here, but my poor old bones are soar and I would be more comfortable on somthing softer.” He got on the bed. No sooner had he done so, however, the fireing started again, and a bullet passed through his body. Larkins tried to stanch the wound with a silk pocket ankershif but a bullet knocked off a bit of his ear and he was compled (compelled) to leave Cherry to his fate.

Escaping from the building he made know the disprat condition of poor Cherry. But it made no difernce. The guns still thundered. They had sent to Melbourne for a cannon to blow the hotel down. But it only got as far as Seymour when

52.word was sent it would not be required.

The night was far spent and there was signs of the aprching day. Sergant Steele, a Railway guard and a gentleman from the Western district were behind some trees about a hundred yards from the hotel, where the police station now stands; they saw a man coming from the direction of the Sydney Road.

He was wearing an overcoat and had somthing on his head like a nail can. Thinking he was a madman, they called out, “Go back you fool, you will get shot.” The answer he gave was a volley of revolver bullets. He struck his brest with his hand and said, “Com on you curs. I am bullet proof.” They accepted the chaleng and began to fire at him, but with no effect. Everytime they struck him, he rung like a bell. Somone said, “It is no use, we are fireing at the devil.’

[But] Sergeant Steele formed the opinion that the man was wearing armour. He put two duck shot cartreges in his gun and aimed at his legs. He started to run and fell: When they reached him he was hamering on the helmet with his revolver. They thought he was trying to shoot himself, but he afterwards told them it was a signal for his mates to come to his assistance.

When they took him to the Railway station they found the captive was Ned Kelly, the leader of that despirat gang who had struck terror into the Australian police for three years. He was quit[e] calm and when they administered first aid he said, “Why don’t you fellows use bullets, not duck shot?”

The day was now well advanced. People had

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come from all parts from the surrounding district. Specil trains have been run, bringing large number[s] from Wangaratta, Benalla and Melbourne. The crowd is increasing as hour by hour goes by.

The hotel still holds out, but they only fire a few shots. Now the resestance has died out [much]. All is stillness. No sound comes from the illfated house. It was known that Burns was killed many hours ago, and the leader is in the hands of the police at the Railway station. There is only Dan Killy and Steve Hart left. Why do not the officers order the men to search the building? Shurley they are not cowards? I think the reward was influancing them, and they did not want any of the men to distinguish themselves. A Trouper dressed himself in Ned Kelly’s Armour and prepared to go singlehanded, but was told to Obay Orders.

Kelly’s Sisters in an agoney of tears pleaded to be alowed to go and see their brother but promison was refused, and when they attempted to go on their own responcability, were brought back at the point of the rifle.

There was a priest present. His name was Father Gibney. I am told he is now a Bishop in West Australia. He was a brave man and offered to go to the hotel and if they were still alive, induce them to surrender. But his servecses were curtly refused. It appeard that the lion was dead, and they were afraid to go near it.

At last, the most insane order ever given, came.

54.“Fire the house!” What a cruel thing to do. Had they no

regard for the life of that inaccent man who lay bleeding in a back room? Apart from this, what madness! No-one knows what papers might have been found, or what crimenals brought to Justice only for the fire.

This was not like the action of a well organised police force. We would have only expected such a thing to be done by a band of rabble.

A Trooper crept up to the building with a large bundle of straw, put a match to it, and the deed was done. Soon the red flames were shooting high in the direction of the bright blue sky. The crowd stood spellbound at such a want-n act of destruction. Then a cry of horror went up. “Marten Cherry is in the house.” Oh, that dreadful fire! Even now he would be dieing by inches. Nothing could save him now, but the cry reached a Noble heart. Father Gibney, regardless of dainger, rushed through fire and smoke. He stumbled over a body and carried it out.

A cheer died on the lips of the watchers and ended in a cry of despair. It was the body of Joe Burns. The priest still undaunted, handed ove his grim burden. He rushed back into the fire. People stood as if they were in a dream. Everyone held their breath. The house would fall. The roof was caving in. Noone could escape. The brave Priest would be burnt to death. But no, there something coming out of the fire. It is Father Gibney with Marten Cherry in his arms.

Their faces are burnt and blackened. Silence

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falls on the throng. They gather around. The priest, still holding Cherry in his arms, repeted a prayer. There is a gasp and a Sigh and Marten Cherry is dead. Gone where the wicked cease from trubling and the weary are at rest.

When the fire burnt down, the bodies of the Outlaws were found laying on the ruins of a bedsted. They had taken the Armor off and it was laying beside them. [And] it is most likely they shot themselves to avoid capture. Of course they were burnt beyond recognison, but they is not a shadow of a doubt as to their identaty. They were dan Kelly and steve Hart. There have been lots of wilde stories told about their escape. Some unprincpled fellows at the South African war past themselves off as the escaped highwaymen and said the bodies found were those of two swagmen. Even as late as the last great war, the same story was told. There are always people who have such a love of notoraty that they will tell any lies.

I once heard a man in a hotel in Melbourne enlarging on the deeds of the Kelly Gang. I could not help telling him he knew very little of what he was talking about. He said, “I should think I ought to know, when I am their brother Jim”. I was shure then and told him I knew Jim Kelly. He was a man, and if he was there, he would wipe the floor with him. The hero made himself scarce.

The morning after the fire, the place presented a sight of utter desalation. The ruins were still smouding. [smouldering] There were eight horses laying dead. One of the first things done by the police

56.was to shoot every horse near the place in order to prevent any one from escaping on them. Crowds of people were raking and scratching in the aibers [embers] searching for soveniers. In the center of a smouldring heap lay the deared remains of Dan Mortemars Grayhound dog. The faithful brut had followed his master into the hotel and had shared the same fate as the men who had brought about the destruction of the place.

There was a rumble of wheels. A heavy waggonet came down the Sydney road and passed through the township. In it were two coffins. The chared bodies were handed over to the relatives and taken to Mrs Kelly’s and from there to the Greta Cemetry where a rose bush marks the spot. The body of Joe Burns was wraped in a blanket and buried by the police in the Benalla Cemetry at midnight.

Chapter 17 The Last of Ned Kelly.The bushrangers had a long run and no deasent person

could have any sympathy for them after the cold blooder murder of the three policemen in the Wombat Raingers. Everyone feared what the end would be. No-one thought they could be guilty of such a diabolical plot as that of wrecking the train, and all honest people looked upon the crime with intense loathing. The crime may be some excuse for the police, but to say the least, their head as well as their nerve. [And] The saddest thing of all is that it cost the lives of three inoccent people. Who would think that the descendents of such men would be amongst

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the men who stormed Poziers, or stood like a wall of steel before Amiens and hurled the Germans back again and again untill they had to retire bleeding, broken and beeten.

I am not condemming all of them. A whole company may be lost by the funking of a few of their number, or they may fail through the mistakes of their officers. They must obey orders.

I have no doubt, that there were many men at Glenrowan who would have been brave enough to win the V.C. if oppertunity had come their way. Mrs Jones was in a dreadful way. She blamed the police for all her trouble. It was pittyful to see her when the news of her sons death was brought to her. She looked at the ruins of her home, wrong her hands and sobed as though her heart would break. It was true the government would compinsate her for the loss of her property but nothing could give her back her child. In her raving She denounced the police, calling them everything that was bad. [And] Noone held her responcable for what she said because she was distracted with greif.

Ned Kelly was taken to Melbourne and placed in the gaol hospital. His wound only being caused by duckshot, he soon recovered. Sometimes he talked freely but had no sense of shame or remors for what he had done. His grevince was against the police. He feelt he had been treated unjustly an accused of things he was not guilty of. The one regret he expressed was the shooting of Sergeant

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Kennedy. He said the sergeant was a brave man and fought fairly. He was laying badly wounded and beged them to spare his life for the sake of his wife and little children. He was in great pain and they could do nothing for him. To leave him would have been worce than to shoot him, so they chose the later. [But] They had to do it when the wounded man was not looking. When asked if they torchered him, he indignantly denied it and said if the body had been tampered with, it had not been done by them.

On Sunday evening at Glenrowan when his tongue was lused [loosed] by drink, he talked freely and told about a goodmany of their experancses, declaring that they would be able to defy the law as long as they liked. From words droped, they thought if they succeeded in wrecking the train, everyone would rush to Glenrowan. Benalla would be left without police protection and they could ride down and rob the three Banks. He did not say they were going to do it but exressed the apinion that it could be done. He said they were sick and tired of being hunted from place to place and did not care much how things went.

However, it was a blessing that the gang was broken up, and the Bushrainging of the back country of Australia at an end for all time.

Ned Kelly was brought from Melbourne by special train several times to appear before the court at Beechworth. It has been said when the train drew near the Raingers, he would look out and say to himself, “I wonder will I ever ride over those

59.hills again?” At times he would sing songs, and be in wonderfuly good spirits and was defiant to the last.

It was a very great pitty that one with such a powerful brain should have turned his enargy to such a brutel purpas. He baffeled the best skill that could be brought against him both in this state and New South Wales and by the way he carried out his plans, proved himself to be a genious of no mean order. Had he placed his powers in the right direction, he could have been a power for good instead of Evil. It proves the truth of the old proverb, “Evil Communication Corrupts Good Manners.”

It was his association with Power the Bushranger that first lead him to tread the path of folley. If he had lived at the time of the Great War, instead of dieing the death of a fellen on the gallos, his memory covered with disgrace, he may have fell on the battle fields of the Empire, covered with glory. Or, won the V.C. and returned to Australia loved and admired by a great[e]ful Public.

Subsequent events in the family will prove what I am stating to be true. I am not saying this to in anyway make excuses and [I] have no sympathy[y] with those who break the Law. The Thorns and the Briers had overgrown his heart and made him a beast of pray.

Ned Kelly stood his trial in Melbourne before Judge Berry. He was found guilty and sentenced to death. When asked by His Honour if

60.he had anything to say why sentance of death should not be passed upon him, all he said was, “You will be with me before very long.” It was strange he should say this. The Judge died within three months after Kelly was hanged.

While waiting for his Execution he seemed quit[e] cheerful. It has been said that when he was asked what he would have for his last meal, he said, “Roast Lamb, green peas and a bottle of Claret.” A man under sentence of death is given anything he likes to ask for. It is fulfilling the words of the good old book: “Give strong drink to him who is ready to perish.” He is said to have smoked his pipe before walking with a firm step onto the scafal. [scaffold] When asked if he had anything to say, he said, “Oh Well. Such is Life.” The bolt was drawn. The drop fell. Death was instantaneous. So died the last of the Kelly Gang.

On the night after the execution, there was a large side show tent pitched on a vacant al[l]otment somewhere in Melbourne. On a box stood a mags[?] man, shouting at the top of his voice: “Come this way! Come this way and see the Mother and Sisters of Ned Kelly who was hanged this morning. They are now on the inside. Pass right in for the small sum of one shilling.”

In the tent sat an elderly woman and two girls. The public came in hundreds. So strong was their morbed [morbid] cureasaty [curiousity] that it fairly rained shillings. They made so much money that they

61.repeated the show in other places, even going into New South Wales. At Paramatta they showed Ned Kelly’s famous gray mare, and it turned out that they had bought the horse from a farmer a few miles out of the town. People are very foolish to be taken in in this way. A mother and sisters would not resort to such a mean way of making money, even if they were starving.

Chapter 18. A Mother’s Sorrows.Time was passing. Three years had passed since the

gang had been broken up. We have all heard the story of King Richard the 1st, the mighty man of war. So great was his strength that he wealded [wielded] a battleaxe of enormas weight, and he was so dreaded by his enemies that his fame lived for hundreds of years. If a horse shied, the rider would say, “Dost thou think King Richard is in that bush.” [And] For years, some foolish mothers would say to their children, “If you do not be good, Ned Kelly will get you.”

Prejudice is hard to kill. The world is cruel, selfish and unkind. We are in dainge [danger] of making those suffer who least deserve to be condemned. A thrashing machien [machine] was working at a farm on the creek. All was hurry and rush. Men toiled in the heat. The sheaves were pitched from the stack to the handcutters and passed on to the feeder. The straw rolled up the elevators. Chaffey and Cavey were hard at work. A number of men are busy filling, sewing and stacking bags of wheat. At a little

62.distance under the shade of a big gum tree, there are five or six farmers daughters waiting with the lunch. We hear their merry laughter and jokes about the boys. A rider is seen to be coming down the road. It proves to be a woman. She is mounted on a fine upstanding bay horse, and sits gracefully on side saddle. She is wearing a black riding abbot [habit] and a white blouse and black hat sits erect. [and] It can at once be seen that she is an accomplished horse woman rather past [passed] middle age, but still very good looking. Her face is plesant [pleasant] but her brow is furrowed with sorrow.

She aproched [approached] the owner of the thrashing [threshing] machine and said, “My name is Mrs Kelly. I have three wheat stacks. Will you come and thrash them?” When he said he would be pleased to do so, she was loud in her thanks and she said she had been almost afraid to come and ask him. But, said he, “Your money is as good as anybodies. You are honest and will pay for the work.”

She said, “Oh yes. You can be sure of your money. You do not seem to understand what the trouble [truble] is. I am the mother of outlaws who died for their crimes. People look down on us and avoid us.”Being a fair minded man he said, “I think that is a cruel for them to do. Your sons were guilty of a most dreadful crime. They have been made to pay the extream penalty of the Law.

63.They are dead and the matter should be allowed to rest; you should not be made to suffer on their account.”

These few straightforward words, spoken in a kindly spirit, sunk deeply into her breast, and she never forgot them. How dreadfully cruel it was for this poor woman to feel that She carried the brand of Cain. How often it has been said: “Am I my brother’s keeper?” To a very great extent, we are. Our actions influence others. If we are guilty of things that are mean and selfish, our friends are made to suffer. It is our duty to look for the best, not the worst in our fellow men. We often only see the Thorns and the Briers and overlook the Roses in the better side of Life.

The Thrashing at Kelly’s was something plesant to remember, and the conduct of the family was all that could be desired. The woman’s heart responded to the kindness extended to her. Sitting under a big willow tree in the warm summer evening with Kate and Grace at her feet, she told the story of the lawless carear of her sons from her point of view. While she made no excuse for them, she said it was all brought about through the row in the house, when in the heat of temper she struck Fitzpatrick over the head with the fire shovel, and the fatal mistake was made when they put her in prison. If she had been at home, she would have been able to save

her sons from being guilty of murder and would have freely given her life’s blood to save them from a carier of crime.

[But] The scorn and contempt that was shown them by some people was hard to bear. When she spoak about the side shows that had gone about the country, her eyes filled with tears. What dreadful things people could do for money. They had no mercy or pitty for the feelings of those who were overtaken by misfortune.

“Oh that dreadful night. How can I ever forget it? While I was in an agony of grief, with my heart broken, people were trying to sink me lower in the eyes of the world.”

So, the evening went before they knew it. The hour of midnight had arrived, and the listener went to his bed on a bundle of straw under the open canapy of heaven. The stars twinkled. There was a red glow in the sky, a sign that another hot day was not far away. Down in the old creek, the frogs croaked. There was the hoot of an owl. Then came the cry of a night hawk. [But] The stranger did not hear them. He was deep in thought. “How strange it was that he should meet the woman in this way!” He was thinking about the story and turning it over in his mind. The woman that he had heard so much about, was intensely [intencly] human, with all the love of a Mother’s heart. She may have had her faults, but, beyond all doubt, there was a lot of good in her.A good name easily lost but very hard to regain.

65.We sometimes bring upon ourselves the disrespect of

our fellows by our own folley. This can be well said about Mrs Kelly. She was left a widow when her family were young. A few years before the outbreak of the gang, she married again. Her second husband was a drover and was not often at home. There were no near neighbours and the husband was not often seen about the place. People called her “Mrs Kelly” and She let them continue to do so, and she neglected to make her marriage Public. There was a boy and two girls in the second Family. Not Knowing the truth, people regarded her as an immoral woman.

I am quite sure of my ground. She was married in Benalla by a protestant Minister. I knew him well. He is since dead. I also knew one of the witnesses who is still alive.

The husband disappeared about the time of the outbreak and it was reported that he was drowned while he was attempting to ford the Upper Murry.

When the sons got into disgrace, the mother felt that it would be cowardly to forsake the name, and the family took the same view. John Kelly as he was known left the country some years ago. He became a moving picture artist. He married and Actress and they are both employed on the movies in America.

The two youngest girls are both married. Old Mrs Kelly is still alive and in her ninety fourth year. This is an evidence that in some cases,

64.trouble will not kill. She is a wonderful old woman. At the age of eighty eight, She walked three miles to visit a sick neighbour. Her sight is wonderfully good. The same can be said of her memory. It would be better for her if it was not. The state of forgetfulness will come when she goes to the grave.

Chapter 19. A Kind Son.I have felt somwhat backward in writing this story but

I know the facts so well, and there have been so many statements [ments] made and so much written that is far from the truth. The worst side has always been put to the public. I want to show both sides. I am not referring to the gang, but to those who are left.

Criminals are made not born and it is not to be said that because a man’s brothers are bad, that he will be also. Jim Kelly was a brother of Ned and Dan. The statement has been made that if he had not been away in another state, he would have been with them.

Now I know for a fact that he was home after his brothers were out, for I saw him in Benalla and talked to him. He went to New South Wales shortly afterwards. I believe [beleave] to get away from them. He went away into the Back Blocks and got work on a station.

In these faraway places [plases], the men neither [neathe] feared God or man, and Sunday was spent by the young fellows in Kangaroo hunting and any other Sport they could get. The Kellys were all fine horsemen and delighted in

67.Riding buck jumpers [buckgjumpers).

There was a common a few miles from the station with stockyards where people could yard their stock. The lads used to go there on Sundays and yard some of the young horses off the common. They would catch the wildest of them and Kelly would ride them to the delight of the onlookers.

Someone informed on them. The police set a watch and caught him on the horse. He was arrested and charged with horse stealing and alternately with illegally useing. He stood his trial and was aquited [acquitted] of horse stealing but convicted of illegally useing. When he was brought up for sentance the Judge said, “Before dealing with your case, I want to ask you if you are any relation to the Kellys, the outlaws at present at large in Victoria?” Then he made a very foolish speach. He said, “Yes they are my brothers and I am not ashamed of it.”

“Well,” said his Honour, “I will see that you do not join them. You are sentanced to five years hard labour in the Paramatta jail.” For what could be regarded as a boyish prank, the sentance was a very harsh one. [But] Perhaps [perhaps] it was the best thing that ever happened [to] him. All prisners who served five years had the opportunity of learning a trade and he learnt bootmaking. When he came out, the gang were broken up, and he had a trade.

He went and lived with his mother on the creek and worked at his trade. After some years, they sold the place and he started a shop in

68.Winton. It was on the main road and he got as much work as he could do, but he longed for the old creek, the hills, the horses, cattle and sheep. By hard work, he saved enough to take up six hundred and forty acres, at the foot of Kelly’s Gap where he made a home for himself and his mother.

They say to know a man, you must live near him. There is not a neighbour who would hear a bad word said about him. [and] It is surprising the stories that are told by people who are ignorant of the facts. A friend of mine was travelling on a train when he heard a man telling a story about the Kellys, and he was surprised to hear him say, Jim Kelly still took his wild fits and would gallop through the streets of Glenrowan cracking a stockwhip and firing a revolver and the people would run into their houses in dread of their lives. My friend was indignant and denied the statement with a great amount of warmth, telling him Kelly was a strictly sober man and one of the best behaved men that came into the town.

[And] He is a most kind hearted fellow. If he was going along the road and saw a man stuck, he would take off his coat and help him, even if he had never seen the man before. If there was sickness or death in the neighbourhood, he would be the first to go and say, “What can I do for you? How can I help you.” [And] The task imposed on him was never too hevay or

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too hard. He would be with them day and night, as long as they needed his help.

He was always very fond of horses and dogs. It has been said, he neve[r] had a bad dog. Some were better than others. When he started work on the creek nearly forty years ago, he made a vow that he would never get into trouble again and I believe he has done his best to keep to it. There are many things in his nature that are truly noble but, the family had got a bad name, and he had to suffer for it although it was not his fault.

His name was Kelly, and there was an intense hatred of the name and can you wonder at him resenting it. They were made a scapegoat of, for every one. There were still people who were dishonest and cattle have been Stolen and I know some have been bad enough to do it in a way that would cast suspicion on him. Twice he has been charged with cattle stealing and in both cases he has been able to prove he was not guilty.

The hardest case of all was when a woman claimed one of his horses. [She] said she lost it when it was a foal and swore an information against him. He was brought befor the Police Court and committed for trial. He was able to bring neighbours to prove that he bred the horse. Some of them were present when it was foaled. The evidence was so conclusive that the Judge told him he walked out of the court without a Stain on his character,

70.but that was poor satisfaction. It cost him fifty pounds to save himself for being jailed for his own horse.

I must leave him for the present to say something about two of his sisters, Kate and Grace. They were fine looking girls. Grace got married in the district and is still living and is the mother of a fine family of sons who are hard working young men and are doing well.

Kate left the State and went away to earn her own living. Rumor had it that She was getting a large Salery as a Barmaid to draw custom. There was no truth in the story. She was never a Barmaid and was too highspirited to trade on her identity and would prefer to keep silence when the unhappy past was concerned.

Somewhere in New South Wales, She fell in love, got married, and settled in the Riverena. For a time, all went well as She had two girls and a boy. While the boy was still a baby, She was taken ill and died. The news was broken to Jim and the old lady and they determend to adopt the children.

One of our respected State Members spent the greater part of his boyhood on the old creek within two miles of Kelly’s and of course knew them well. Many years ago, he settled in the Murry district. He said he was in Wodonga one day and he saw a man driveing a hooded buggy and pair up the street. The man drew into the curb and sprang out of the trap

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and when he looked up, he said, “Why it is my old friend Harry.” [and] Harry said, “My old friend Jim.” They both expressed the pleasure at meeting. It seemed like old times over again but Jim’s face was sad and his eyes downcast.

“What brings you up here?” Jim was asked, but he was unable to speak for sometime. Then he said: “Sad business. Very sad business,” and shook his head and said, “Kate is dead,” and was overcome with emotion. Then he said, “I am going over for the children. It will mean a six hundred miles drive for me, but I must have them and by the help of God, while Jim Kelly has a pair of hands to work with, Kate’s children shall never want. I will feed and clothe them, send them to school and bring them up as well as I can.”

[And] He was true to his word. Imagine the big, burly fellow holding the little baby on a pillow on his knee, driving mile after mile. He handle it as tenderly as a woman. He gives it its food and wraps it up from the cold. He sleeps with it, getting up every hour to attend to its comfort. It was his sister’s child, and he would see that it was not neglected.

The little girls were bigger and able to sit up in the buggy themselves. Sometimes the grew weary with the long journey, then he would talk to them, give them cake or biscuits and promise to buy them lollies when he came to a store – which he never failed to do. They must be amused and have the

72.best he could give them. They were Kate’s children. Oh how he loved Kate’s children.

So, day after day passed. He grew more fond of them every day. The little girls would soon be big enough to learn to ride. He would get them a pony and they should ride to School. They would have to be made fine horsewomen like their mother. [And] When the boy grew big enough he should have a pony too. Then he looked at his little hands and feet and thought, “Ah, the little mite. I wonder will he ever be big enough to ride a horse?”

The days went by, and at last he was in sight of the old Gap and soon handed the baby into his mothers arms with the words, “We must do our best for them Mother.”

“Yes, that we will,” Said the old Lady and She got busy right away. Soon baby’s clothes were changed. She had given him his supper then she set to work going over their clothes, seeing what they had got. She would have to go into the town and buy some material so that she could make them some dresses and some warm underclothing, and they must have strong boots so that they would not get their feet damp.

When Jim saw how much his mother found to do, he wondered how he had managed with them for that three hundred miles drive. A woman is always better with children than a man, and a bachelor [bachelor] at that, so the mother took charge of the children. Jim amused himself with them and his greatest pleasure of all, was teaching the girls to ride but they inherited their mother’s skill and did not need much teaching.

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Soon they were able to get on their pony and go down the paddock and bring up the cows. Jim was never done praising them, but one of his greatest pleasures was, when he was coming home from work in the evening, the two little girls would run and meet him, and each one would take his hand. Then the time came when he took them to School for the first time. There was now someoneelse to come and meet him. The little boy would toddle out and hold out his little hand to come to uncle. Then he was big enough to have his first lesson on horse back. What a little fellow he was. His legs did not reach halfway down the horses sides, yet he was not frightened. He wanted to get on again.

Chapter 20. Life is But a Dream.How time flies and has truly it has been said, “Life is

but a span? [Space?] In the battle of Life, we are tossed from place to place, sometimes carried on by the sea of prosperity, but more often held back by the waves of adversity. In the days of happy childhood, we look forward to the time when we will be grownup. In youth, we dream of success of love and matrimony. In Middle Life we pride ourselves in our strength. Our time is taken up with the stern realities of Life. In Old Age and failing strength, when our arm has lost its power and our step its fleetness, we look back over our past life and alas! too often we see wasted hours and nelegted [neglected] oppertuities [opportunities]. [And] Viewing our many failures, we sigh for what might

74.have been and find we have grown old before we knew it.

How often have we heard those words: “Man that is born of a woman, hath but a short time to live.” “He cometh forth like a flower.” “He fleeth like a shadow and continueth not.” The children of today are the men and women of tomorrow. We have to do our best to lead them in the right way.

In the last chapter, the children were going to school. Now they are grown up. The grandmother is a very old woman. The uncle’s hair and beard is thickly streaked with gray. The baby is a big man and able to wear his uncle’s riding boots. He has become an expert horseman and loved to gallop over the hills. He had been taught to work and was a great help to his uncle in many ways.

Above all, he had been taught to Love his country. It is deeds not words, that has built up the Empire and made it the most mighty nation under the sun. [And] This young fellow was to be a man of deeds in a great cause.

The girls have grown in strength and intelligence [intelagence]. They have blossomed into womanhood and have a fair share of their mother’s good looks. The uncle thinks as much of them as ever and is proud to introduce them to his friends as Kate’s children.

Things are continuly [continually] changing and another stage in their lives is appro[a]ching when they would feel the first throb of love. That desire that burns in every true woman[s] heart for a home of

75.her own with the man she loves. Notwithstanding the relationship to a family who carried the name that brought back memories of a black past, a past that in the interest of those who were not then born should be forgot[t]en, their good looks and Kindly nature brought them admirers. Many young men appro[a]ched them. There are a great number of callers at the little house in the hills. They come with excuses of dif[f]erent kinds. One wants to enquire where he can get a good saddle horse. Another is in want of a good sheep dog, while yet another has lost some cattle and thought they might have come that way, [and] had they seen anything of them. Others had varous [various] reasons for calling but all were looking for information.

The unsuspecting old uncle did not dream what their real motive was, and in a goodhearted way, he would start to answer their questions often at a much greater length than they wished. [And] They would be casting sheepeyes in the direction of the girls while he would be telling which was the best breed of horses or telling them about what a wonderful horse this old gray he had years ago was. He could yard the wildest of cattle with him. The old fellow knew as much as a man, but he died up in the gully and he had buried him at the foot of a bug wattle tree.

Youngers would be a good place to go, they always had a lot, and their horses were a good class. He had heard Bill Tanner had some horses for Sale. Did he know much about horses? If he did not, Tom L[L]oyd would go and pick one out for him.

76.About dogs, he was a good judge of dogs and had had

some wonderful[l]y fine ones. Old Lass, the mother of Rover, was just a marvel. She would bring the sheep from the far end of the paddock. There was nothing She could not do with sheep and She had never been beaten in the sheepdog trials at the shows. “Come here Rover!” A black dog with a white ring around his neck came and rub[b]ed himself against his master’s leg. “Now that is a good dog. He is very much like his mother both in looks and ways. I know where I could get you a pup if you would care to have one.”

To the man who was looking for cattle, he would say, “There have been none around this way lately but I saw about twenty yesterday on the Glenrowan Road near Tindles. If you go there at once, you will most lik[e]ly find they are yours.”

To the other interviewers, he gave full information. [But] As water finds its level [lavel], preference was Shown by the girls and the visitors [visiters] dwindled down to two. Things were now in a fair way of working.

The Uncle had never had a love affair. There were so many things to take up his time and thought. Had it been otherwise, he would have known the joys of married Life but he had devoted his life to his aged Mother and his dead sister’s children. He dismissed all thought of settling in life from his mind. That made him somewhat dull regarding Love affairs but it dawned upon him that the young men had not come to see him but his sister’s daughters and he made up his mind not to stand in the way of the happiness of Kate’s children.

77.They had chosen honest, hardworking men and he

made them welcome in hishouse. The path of love run [ran] smoothly. Weeks came and went. The young couples would go out on hors[e]back on a Sunday afternoon. Often they would find their way to the Winton Lake and sit on the Lookout watching the ripple of the water and the black Swans swim[m]ing proudly past. Nature was at peace. Life was a happy dream bringing them nothing but ple[a]sant [pleas(e)nt] thoughts of the joys that were to follow. Then the sun would sink behind Lawford’s Hill and they would turn[e] homeward in all the vig[ar][our] of Youth.

One Sunday afternoon they had gone for a walk in the hills. It was spring once more. The wild flowers had come again. The wattles were in bloom. The Sa[r]saparilla clim[bed] up the saplings and hung from them in beautiful purper [purple] garlends [garlands]. They sat down on a log at the top of a hill and feasted their eyes on the glorious view.

The young man began to speak. The old, old story was trembling on his lips. A rabbit run past chased by a hawk. She was holding a bunch of wild flowers in her hand, and her eyes were fixed on Mount Bogong with its white mantle of snow. A mi[a]ld eyed steer stood watching them. The story. The story was told. Their lips met and sealed the engagement by a kiss.

Shortly afterwards their was joy in the home. It was the wedding breakfast of Kate’s eldest daughter. The Priest had said the words that had admitted into a state honorable before God and Man. The

78.other girl soon followed in the same path and so ended another stage of life’s dream.

Chapter 21 The Call to Duty.Things went on in much the same way in the humble

home near the Gap. Now that the girls were gone, Jim had the care of his aged mother.Uncle and nephew [Nephue] were drawn more closely [closely] to each other. War had broken out between Germany [Germoney] and Russia. Then came the news that Germoney had declared war against France and had envaded Belgum. England was drawn into the fight and soon the foundation of the world was shaken by the most dreadful war in histry.

The Germon guns thundered and be weight of numbers carried everything before them. At the battle of Mons, the Allies were driven back. The germans went on in their mad rush, leaving behind them ruin and desolation.

Then we hear stories of murder, of the outrage of women and the maiming of little children. The world is in great danger from a monster that threatens to devour it. If they are not stoped, life and property will not be safe. Not only the women and children of Griat Briton but also the women and children of all her overseas dominions will be treated the same as the women and children of France and Belgum.

The call went accross the sea and tens of thousand - flock to the Royal Standard from all parts of the British dominions. We are proud that Australia send the first volinteer army.

79.the world ever saw.

It was the suprem test of manhood between those who served and the men who shirked on the ground of Concincious [conscientious] Scrupls. They called war legalised murder. To som extent I admit that it is, but if the expresion may be used We are all beasts of prey. We live on each other and have to defend our rights. This state of things will continue untill the swords are beaten into plough shears and the spears into pruning hooks.

I would not condemn a man because he did not go to the war. There may have been many things to prevent him, but the fit man without ties who refused to go for want of courage or lack of loyalty is unworthy of the name of an Australian. If a man is unwilling to defend his country, he has no right to claim its protection.

The men who enlisted gave their lives for the Empire just the same as those who went. It was not their fault that they were rejected. They had done all they could and should be respected.

We go to the top of a hill overlooking Greta. We see four men in conversation. One is a tall man with a grey beard. He is not many years short of sixty. The other three are in the uniform of the A.I.F. They are from the Broadmeadows Camp and are on final leave.

Let me introduce them to you. That fine straping young fellow is Ted Foster. The baby that his uncle carried on a pillow on his knee when he brought the children from New South Wales. The two other men are his

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brother_in_laws. The old man is Jim Kelly.They have been having a serious talk. He has been

telling them som_thing about the unhappy past. The young man’s face is set and resolute, and he said, “Uncle I am going to win back a good name. I will dare death. I will fight for my country and the honor of the family.”

The Old man said, “Well spoken lad. You show a true spirit of a Kelly.” Then they stood in silance and gazed over the fair scene – the snowcap_ed tow_ring mountians, the fertile valleys and the fields of waving corn. This was what they were going to fight for – the home of their childhood and the safety of women and little children. Could anything show the true man to a better advantage?

Slowly they retraced their steps to the house. The housbands were returning to camp that evening but Foster had a few more days to spend with his people. How many have known the pain of partings of this kind. It seemed as if they were going to their grave. Yet in all of it there was a humble pride that they were going to do their duty when uncle and nephew grasped each other’s hands for the last time, they stood for a long time looking into each other’s faces.

[And] The young man spoke. He said, ‘I wish you were going with me Uncle.”

“Not more than I have wished it myself,” said the uncle. “It is only weight of years that prevents me and ever now, now [as] old a man as I am, I would go if they would take me.”

“Never mind,” said the boy, “I am going to make

81.good and if the Germons get me, I will not be taken alive.”

There was a short w_istle. The train rushed into the Station. The flag is waved. The train starts and Foster is gone. The old man stood on the platform and watched it untill it looked like a little black speck and it was gone.

In Camp there were men from all parts of the State - Men of every trade + every profession, farmers from the country, stockmen from the backblocks, clerks from banks, students, lawyers and teachers. All fired with the same object - The honor of King and Country and the safety of the nation. Some have roughed it, others have lived in the lap of luxury. [But] In camp, all are on the same footing – they have to sleep on hard beds, to subject to hard discipline and hard training.

Although they know what they have to face, they grow tired of camp and long to be sent to the front. They are men of great courage and iron will. When they are ordered to leave camp, for the transports, they are pleased.

The Australian soldier is always ready for anything. They are marched on to the boats. When they are all on board, the barrier is removed and the crowd are alowed on the pier. Many and touching are the farewells. There are hundreds of streamers held by the men on the boats and their friends on the shore. The waiting is very trying. At last the gangways are taken up. The engines begin to throb, the propellers revolve and the boat glides gentle from the shore. The crowd is silent only for the sob of grief-stricken relatives.

82.Then the soldiers on board send up a mighty cheer. People on shore take it up and when they look at the great liners with the soldiers thronging their decks, Australia is proud of her sons.

They go out on the mighty deep, gaurded by an escort of men of war and plough through the sea on their way to help the Mother_Land. Amongst that band of noble heroes stood young Foster, Kate Kelly’s son. He was going to wipe out the strain. Yes! he had the fighting spirit of the family and was determined to use his powers for the good of his country.

He had all the experance of the men who had taken their first long voyage and not the least trying of them was sea sickness. [But] The Australian is noted for looking on the best side of everything, so, they made fun of their own sufferings, and cheerfully [cheefuly] submited to discipline.

The days went by untill the voyage became tiresome and they were glad to disembark at Egypt and were placed in camp at Cairo. Then came more training unde_ the burning Sun. [and] In time they came in contact with the Turks and had their first taste of war. [But] The real fighting was yet to come.Then came the forced marches across the burning sands of the desert. The heat, the dust, the dirt and flies, the burning thirst! When [Then] the great dust storms that overtook them, where many a man fell to rise no more. Still, there was something more to be dreaded than the Stories of the desert or the thunder of the

83.enrmeys [enemies] cannon. the sins of that wicked city – Cairo.

It was a calamity that this place should have been made the headquarters of the troups, with its crime; its sin and immoral_ty; its snares and its pitfalls to entrap the unwary; its glitter and glare, its gay life where women dressed in the hight of fashion tempted men to destruction; its native quarters with their seathing beds of infamey. All united to drag men down to ruin, through the agency of women and wine. Many of theAustralian_ were from the country and were ignornant of the sins of big cities and became an easy prey for the vulturs that hovered around them. Too soon, they found themselves ruined in body and soul, to be sent back to Australia as medicaly unfit, to die a dishonour_d death; or live to carrie about a loathsam desease and become a reproach to themselves and a menace to sociaty. While regreting that somany fell victams to the dreadful_ scurge of humanity, we are prowd that of the tens of thousands of men who were in Egypt, only a very small persentage fell victams to the dreadful vice. Young Foster was one of the best. It was not in his nature to be immoral. Whever could be said about his family, they could not be accused of immorality. Even the dreaded leader of the desprat_ band of highwaymen was always so gelant in the presance of females that he was called by many “The Gentleman bushrainger.”

Chapter 22 On the Battlefields of the Empire.The Troups were growing restless. They were tired of

92. (84)Egypt, tired of the burning sands and most of all, tired of Cairo. For some days there was a feeling in all ranks that there was going to be something doing. [And] The order to prepare to Embark for Gallipoli came. It was recived with great rejoicing. They were eager for the fight.

It was the first opportunity they had of showing what they could do and they did it well. On that 25th day of April, they wrote the name of Australia on the scroal of fame in letters of blood. Who has not read with pride of the charge of the Light Brigade? Our hearts have thrilled when we have thought of the bravery of those noble men who obeyed orders, although they knew somone had blundered.

Yet compared with the Gallipoli landing, it sinks into insignificance. I need not enlarge on the dreadful scenes of blood and slaughter of the undaunted courage of the Australians in their attack. Artillary and machine guns opened fire on them. They fell by thousand. Still they came on like the waves of the sea untill they reached the land and stormed the hights but, at what a price!

It can be said, as it was of the charge of the six hundred. Surely someone had blundered? [But] That did not in anyway lessen the glory of the achivement. Artists will paint, poets will sing and authors will write of the wonderful deeds, and the name of the Anzac will live for all time.

From Gallipoli, we let our thoughts take us to France. That place where the Germons had been making such headway, and spreading such ruin

94.(85)and destruction to such an extent that it had been called ‘bleeding’ France. The horror and suffering of the French people can never be told.

I do not wish to give more credit than is due to the Australians even if it would be possable. The British Soldier has always been know_ as a brave and fair fighter, and it is from this stock that the people of the overseas dominians have sprung. We are the same people, our greatness has been brought about through our being British, but the condisons [conditions] have been diferent.

The open free life has made the Australian more independant. Not only can he be lead, but he can be a leader. In cases where the Officers have all been cut down, again and again, a private has steped out and lead his comrades on and saved the situation.

The French soon found the fighting strength of our boys and regarded them as the savours of France. Young Foster was one of these men. His skill in the Australian bush made him useful in raiding on noman’s land. He fought in many feirce engagements and preformed acts of great bravery and had numbers of hairbreth [hairsbreadth] escapes.

Then would come the time for his unit to go out to rest. Letters would come from Australia and many hearts would be softends with sweet thoughts of home and mother. Foster’s letters brought news from the Gap and he thought of the time when he was carefree. When he sat in the little school in Greta West, of the time when he was a friendless child, of the benevlance of his uncle, and of the tender care of his

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old grandmother. His face would become more resalute for, had he not come here to make good to redeam the name of his people. [And] He became more determend that whether he lived or died, he would do his duty and again with his comrades he would move into the fight. For a longtime, they had been hardpressed. [And] Many of Australias noble sons had gone west but the tide was turning and soon they hoped to inflict a crashing blow on the hated Hun

They were to storm Poziers and were standing too for the hop over. Some were thoughtful and serious, others were laughing and, joking but none were afraid. Fear was unknown to such men. The Officers staing [staying]? with their watches.

Young Foster took a firmer grip of his rifle. Then came the sharp word of comand, “Charge!” and all along the line, a great human wave swept over the top, Supported by their artillery fire. The Germans poured into them artillery, machine gun and rifle fire. Officers and men fell thick and fast, but still on they rush “to Victory, to glory or the grave!”

Not all the powers of death or hell could keep these men back. Shouting and cheering, they rushed forward Then came the clush of arms. The fearful bayonet thrusts. Then the enemy crumpled up, broke and fleed, lik some venamas viper that had been beeten off, he cralled [crawled] away into what shelter he could find.

The victorious troup settled themselves in his trenches and turned his own guns on him. [But] Oh what dreadful costs this victory was gained. The sadest thing in war is to go over a field after the battle. The crys and groans of the wounded and

97.(87)dying are heart rending. From the starting point to the objective is one great sieve of suffering and death. The ground is torn up with bursting shells, there are wrecked guns and dead horses. The aire is still full of poisones gass incressing the sufferings of the dieing, and hanging over the feild like a black pall of death.

Laying with the fallen is Young Foster. Doctors are going over the field. First aid men are hard at work, giving tempory releaf to the sufferers. Strecher bearers are busy carrieing the wounded off the field to the clearing station. A god chaplian is moving about amongst the wounded. He speaks words of comfort and encouragment to the dieing men, telling them of a living Christ, of a Land that is fairer than day. So in the knoledge of God Eternal love, many a brave soldier enters into rest.

Now he kneels beside a dieing man. He is seene to take out his pocket book and write a last message to a mother who somwher in Australia is hoping and praying for the son that can never return.

A fine looking young man is lying with his head on a stone His life’s blood is fast ebbing away from a dredful wound in the chest. His eyes are closed. The paller [pallor] of death is in his face. Seeing that he was breathing, the Chaplian knelt besid him and took his hand. The man’s eyes opened and he said, “The pillow is hard Granney. Put your hand under my head.” Tenderly the good man complyed with his request. “That is better now. I think I will go to sleep. How dark it is, and it is so cold. Kiss me Granney before I go.” [And] He kissed him.

The death dew was on his lips and the brave soldier had gone west. The Chaplian did not know

98.(88)who he was. He might have been rich or poor. He might have been a city gentleman who road in his motor car. He might have been a stockman from outbak. He might have been born and reared in a settler’s hut, or amboule [ambled]? in the Slums or a palacial mansion in some great city. He was one of that great throng of morta[l]rs who had given their lives on the alter of the Empire, A sacrifice for right against night, and had gone to the reward of those who are found on the path of duty. He is worthy to be remembered for all time.

Young Foster died on the battle fields of France, fighting shoulder to shoulder with the best. The bravest men that ever breathed the free aire of fair Australia. Can anyone tell me they have not made good. No they cannot. Foster’s death is so crowned with honour and as one of that sixty thousand men who made a sacrifice that was only surpassed by the world’[s] Redeamer when he died for all mankind on the cross of Calvary. His name is surounded with an halo of Glory. He died thad, we might live.

How many hearts are tourn and bleeding? How many homes are filled with sorrow, and will never be the same because of the ravages of war? [And] How many of us there are, who would if we could, put back the clock of time, and have things as they were? I can speak from my heart for my son is so sleeping with Foster somewhere in France. In a grave I never shall see. It is more than a horrid nightmare. It is somthing that we have to face. We cannot undo the past, but it is in our power to improve the present.

The names of some of the men from this

99.(89)district are in my mind and while I think of them with regret, I am proud that Australia produced such men. I refer to Major Clements, Captain Auston [?] Mahoney, Lieutenant Gerald Evans, Lieutenant Cyril Ashmead M.C., Serg[e]ant Herbert Tanner, Corporal George Goodland and Lieutenant Cicil Lewis and Privates Gamble, Green, Gould, Lindsay, Gardner, Tippet, Lewis, Emsllie[?] and Smith. I feel how much we are indebted to the Liberty we enjoy. They were a credit to their parents, a credit to their country and to the Empire. I class young Foster with them, for he did the same work and made the same sacrifice on the battlefields of the Empire. Should we not honour his memory?

Chapter 23 Mischief Makers and Lieing Tongues.This world is cruel and it never failes to visit on

those who have made misstakes or are in anyway conected with the transgresser. The illwill of whatthey are pleased to call ofended justice. If a doghas a bad name, they kick him and if a man isdown, they do the best to keep him down. Somepride themselves in their Religion, they asume avirtue that is ill chosen.

St. Paul said, “Though I speak with the tongueof men and of angels and have now charity, I ambut a sounding brass and a tinckling symbol.”The Religion of the Lord Jesus Christ no matter bywhat Creed it is taught, is a Gospel of Love. Thereis no Love in visting the deeds of the Sinner onthe heads of the inocent.

I heard a sad story from a girl who was onlytwo years of age. When her brothers suffered deathfor their crimes, She never knew them. [But] When

100.(90)She grew to be a young woman, She felt there was a barrer between her and the people She knew. [And] Remorce for her brother’s actions made her goaway to another State to earn her living. Afeeling of loyalty to the name her mother alwayswent by prevented her from taking another name.All went well with her for a while untill it wasfound that she came from Victoria. Then she was toldabout the wreched people in that state and askedif she had ever met them. The women were a mostimmoral lot (Lot)! This was hard to bear, but whenlater her identaty was discoved she lost her place,for who would employ the sister of Bushraingers?

She would remove for other place and get workbut the illnews would soon follow her and She wouldhave to move again. At last she was driven totake the post of Barmaid. Here she heard cours jokes andoften she heard remarks about her people. One day adrunken loafer was reviling the name of her sister anda that sister had been in her grave for ten years, itwas more than the girl could stand.

[And] She gave the fellow a peace of her mind, butit cost her, her place. She was thought not evenfit for a Bar. In despair, she said, “I am aLeper. An outcast from Society.” I am glad toSay, she keept to the straight path and is nowmarried to a respect able man and has made agood wife.

The mischief makes talk but seldom speakunless it is to injure somone. I have heardlots of things said about the Harts at the timeof the breaking up of the gang. There were somedredful things said about the family and it

101.(91)was stated that one of the brothers swoar veng-ance over the bodies of the dead Bushraingersand this was stated in public print and a pict-ure shown in one of the Melbourne papers.

I am unable to beleave it. I have known theHarts for forty years and have done busness withthem, and always found them the soul of honor. Sofar as I have known, Steve Hart was the only one ofthe family who ever got into truble.

There has been a black sheep in many a good fami-ly and the writers who put everything before the publicin its worst light, do not tell us that old Mr and MrsHart both died with their hearts broken. Or that thedecendents of the family are highly respected resid-ents of Wangaratta, and people in a good position.

I have so much respect for many people whoesmisfortune it was to be related to a desperet bandof Law breakers that I do not like to bring theirnames into this story. [But] The names became publicproperty over forty years ago and I am only usingthem to state the truth from personal knoledge.

With regard to lieing tongues, I feel enclined to tellone or two little stories. They are about a well knowman in Greta. Everyone calls him Tom Lloyd. He isa cousin of Kelly’s and when he was a young man,he was known far and wide for his splended horse-manship. He was admited to be best buckjumprider in the whole of Australia. In fact it wassaid there was no one to surpass him in the world.It was not possable for a horse to throw him.

He is an old man now, but is still very fondof horses and is often seen riding into the town,and always on a good horse. He can still ride

102.(92)well.

A few years ago, there was a buckjump show inWangaratta. They were offering five pounds to anyman who could ride one of their outlaws for fiveminutes. Old Tom came forward and when theysaw his white wiskers, there was roars of laughter.[But] They grew serious when they saw that their horsecould no more throw him than it could cast itsskin and they had to part up the five pounds.

One of his sons is a very fine rider and went toEngland with a rough rider show.

At the time of King George’s coronation a fewyears ago, I met a man in Melbourne, a few daysafter the Melbourne Cup. When he found that Iwas from the North East he said, “I meet a manyestarday from up that way. Prehaps you knowhim. Old Tom Loyde they call him. He was downfor the Cup and had a pritty good win. He wasflurishing a riding whip and dident he talk aboutwhat he could do with a horse. He would like tosee the horse that could throw him.”

I said, “I supose you shouted for him.”“Oh yes and the old man is very fond of

the beer. He has been in to see me several timesand I always take him to the hotel. The old Chap isso interesting.”

I said, “You have been imposed upon for tworeasons. I know the man is not Loyde. He is astrictly temprat man and would be above loafingfor beer. He never makes a boast about hishorsemanship.”

When I saw Mr Loyde a few days later, I askedhim how he got on at the Cup. He said, “I

103.(93)had nothing on it.” I said, “I heard you wentto the Cup.”

“No!” he said. “I have not been to Melbourne forover four years.”

When I told him my reason for asking, he said, “Ohthat’s nothing strange”. Then he went one better andtold me how he meet Tom Loyde! He said, “Ihad been over in New South Wales shearing. I wascoming back to Victoria with two mates. We hadthe three horses. We were riding and two packhorses.We arrived at an hotel a few miles the other side ofAlbury at about eleven o’clock. We decided to wait fordinner, feed our horses and sat in the varanda. Aftera while I said, we will have a drink. We went into theBar and I called for the drinks. A big Loafer came upand said, “I will have a long beer.” I said, “Not atmy expence.” He began to swar and wanted tofight. The Landlord called me asid and said, “Youhad better give it to him. He is a desprat character:Tom Loyde from Greta, one of that Kelly crowd. Hewould think no more of killing you than drinking aglass of beer. I said, “I would like to have a talkwith Tom Loyde,” but was told to keep away fromthe brute, he would kill me. I took the risk buthe would hear of nothing but fight. My mate said “Hihim!” I said, “Oh no. Let it pass!” My mate thenhit him and knocked him out of the Bar. Whenhe went after him, Tom Loyde run for a barb wire fence. He tried to get through it but gotstuck. My mate gave him a kick and sent him thrughand he run but left one leg of his pants in the fenceand we introduced the landlord to the real TomLoyde!

104.(94)Chapter 24 Consuming Fires.

Fire is a good servent if keept under control andused for domestic and comurchal purposes but when itgets beyond control, and becomes man’s master, it is acruel and mercyless enemy and commits the mostdreadful ravages on life and property. A great manyof us have seen it is [in] its worst form. In thecountry, what is most to be dreaded is the bushfires.We have seen them, fought against them, been drivenback and found ourselves uterly helpless against theoncoming wall of fire and could do nothing butwatch the flams like hungry wolves licking up everything that was before them. not only grass, crops andtimber, but sheep, cattle and horses, leaving behindit nothings but blackend ruin – smouldring haystacks, burning grain, the ruens of fences and thechard remains of stock.

All that we have worked for years to aquirehas gone in a few minuits. Is it to be wonderedat, that we dread the bush fires? On a schorch-ing day in the month of Febuary we see that afire has started a few miles away. Great pillersof smoke rise high in the heavens. The volum increases and great tongues of red flame shoothigh in the aire.

It was evendently in good country. Everyonerushes to a fire. Not only to help their neighbour-rs but if possable to protect themselves. Thereare men of all parts. The Bushfire Begades arethere with their fire carts and beeters. It isimpossible to stand in front of the fire. Allthat can be done is to follow up the sidesand keep it from spreding.

105.(95)Then with a roar like thunder, the fire sweeps

into the hills. The thick timber, the high scrub andthe dence undergrout adds fual to the flams.The scene becoms apalling. The tailers labour on,felling trees, carting water to put out fires toprevent a fresh outbreak. Men are thirsty andhungry. Buggies come and bring refreshment. Theyeat a hurried meal and feel better. Night comes,but still there is no rest. Their homes are in dangerand they must fight the fire. The night is madeheidus [hideous] with the shreks of terrefied animalsoverwhelme by the fire they are suffering a dread-ful death. Large flocks of birds fly aboutscreaming only to fall into the fire and beroasted alive.

Daylight came but it brought no releaf . Thesun roas like a ball of fire. The Flams wereburning fearcer than ever they had in the night andhad reached the leavel country and were rush-ing on to the King River like a mighty cyclone.

Most of the farmers managed to save theirhomstads but there were a few who lost all they had.Word was brought that a homstad in a Valley in thehills was in dainger. We went at once with thefire carts and beeters. The place was Sheltered. Abig hill prevented the wind from faning the Flambut it was creeping on like a big snake.

United effard [effort] turned its course and forthe time, the dainges was past. [But] As if hungryfor its work of destrucion it crossed a road andburnt back on the other side. With a mighty roar,it swept down on the house. Men fought likedemons but the very ground seemed to burn. Soon

106.(96)the flames were licking the walls. Determend effordsave the house. As if to show its reveng_ the fire went on and burnt the haystacks.

Forty men with their faces blackened and grimywere tired and wornout. Still their task was notat an end. Scarcly had they rested when thefire brokout again on the west side. Now came thegreatest fight of all. Could it be stoped? It mustbe stoped! If it went another mile, all would belost. Men worked all day long with horses andploughs.

They burn track_ and made fire breaks andat last were rewarded with success. The fire was gotunder and all was safe. The last of the fire was nearKelly’s. Jim had worked like a tiger. When we wentaround by his place to see if all was safe, hismother had made some tea which was much enjo-yed by the fire fighters.

Often in long past years I have thought of thetime when we stood near the little house and lookedacross at the blackened hills – the last of the greatbushfire. Howmany disasters are brought about bysmall things? Prehaps some foolish action that theperson who made the mistake would give worlds torecall. The great fire was caused by a sparkfrom a swagman_ pipe. It meant the loss ofthousands of pounds worth of property and thesuffering and death of many poor animals.

Every calamity has a small beginning. It wasso with the Kelly gang. A little spark caused a bigfire and brought sadness to many hearts. Thebig fire burnt many thorns and briers but itburnt many flowers.

107.(97)In this the closing chapter of my little story I want

to say that men and women are not all bad, andoften in the lives of those who are most condemnedthere are noble qualtys. In any case, all arewithin the reach of God’s saving grace for Christdied that all men might live. Let us be kind andwe will be better men, better citizens and betterChristians.

I want to take you to a little house at the foot ofKelly’s Gap. It is a humble dwelling. There is no signof riches or illgotten gain to be found here. Lookat the pictures on the walls. There are enlargement_ ofmembers of the family, but that is not all. There arethe framed enlargements of the King and Queen. Thesepeople are loyal. Of course they are loyal. For havethey not proved it with the blood of their own kithand kin [N.P.] Look at the old Lady. She is in herninety-fourth year. She is sitting in her chair by thefire. She is cold, always cold. Her great age has madeher blood thin and she loves to sit by the fire.Someday she will not die, but will just fall asleep.

Now look at her son. He is an old man. Hisbeard is snow white. How has he become old. In alife of devotion to his aged mother. In battling withthe world to bring up his dead sister’s children. Fewhave mad a greater sacrifice or played a morenoble part.

For forty years, they have been trying to live downa bad name and there are others, many othersin the Nort_ East who are related to the family.Upright honest men who are above repoch [reproach]. Gladly would they forget the black past.

108.(98)Why not help them and let the dead burey theirdead?

By Glenden Gordon.

The Thorns & The Briars - edited version

This copy of The Thorns & The Briars has been slightly edited by Dagmar Balcarek and Gary Dean in order to make the document easier to read.

“The Thorns & the Briars”

THE TRUE STORY OF THE KELLY GANG

By Joseph William Ashmead1859-1930

The Thorns and the Briers.

(A True Story of the Kelly Gang)

Preface

My object in writing this story is to record facts in connection with a desperate band of lawbreakers. Although clothed in fiction, the statements with regard to the family and the doings of the gang are quite true and are made from personal knowledge. I claim to be an Australian Backwoods-man of over fifty-six year standing. Ned and Dan Kelly were the playmates of my early childhood. They were kind, good-natured boys. There is much in environment. If they had been under a firm hand to keep them out of bad company, and wise counsel to give them good advice, they would have grown up to be good citizens. I might have trod the path of folly and came to the same unhappy end, but for the fact that I was the child of puritan parents, who taught me in the way of wisdom and let me in right paths, always impressing upon me the fact that honesty was the best policy and that sin was a transgression against the laws of God and Man. By this teaching a boy was able to keep the right paths, while his playmates became murderers and died a death of shame.

One of the chief causes of lawlessness in the back country in the early days was the absence of the Church and Christian religion which not only inspires to good living but brings about a fear of evil deeds. The Church does much to solace the country. I hold no brief for any particular Church. They are all alike good and preach the same gospel and can be compared to a number of courses, through which the poor crystal water passes to join a mighty river and united passes into a boundless sea.

I knew the unhappy men well and lived near their home for many years, was present at the scene of the capture in Glenrowan, and have not said that I have to justify their crimes, but to explain the cause of their downfall. It would be much better if their evil deeds were allowed to die with them. So much has been written that is untrue and unfair, and it is most unwise, that picture shows should be allowed to go around the country showing views of the supposed exploits of the Kelly Gang. They have a degrading effect on the rising generation. How often we hear of boy bushrangers, who by reading bad literature or seeing far fetched pictures, have been inspired to emulate the deeds of the Kelly Gang.

Another reason why the matter should be buried is the relations. They are placed on the rack, their hearts are barrowed and their feelings outraged for something they were not responsible for, and which they regret more than anyone else. It appears to me very wrong that people, that have shown such unbounded love and loyalty to King and Country, should be so misrepresented and so cruelly treated.

With regard to those three brave men, Sergeant Kennedy and Troopers Lonigan and Scanlon, who were murdered at Stringybark Creek, they are worthy to be remembered. They gave their lives on the altar of duty, and we have strong sympathy for their descendants.

It is human to err but divine to forgive. Then, let us forget the black past, and forgive as we hope to be forgiven.

CONTENTS

1 Little Nell

2 Australia

3 Towns

4 The Pioneers

5 Glenrowan

6 The Eleven Mile Creek

7 Bad Company

8 The Thunder Clouds Burst

9 Murder at Stringybark Creek in the Wombat Ranges

10 Outlawed

11 The Euroa Bank Robbery

12 Unsuccessful Pursuit

13 The Jerilderie Bank Robbery

14 The Mystery Deepens

15 The Murder at the Woolshed

16 The Breaking up of the Gang

17 The Last of Ned Kelly

18 A Mother’s Sorrows

19 A Kind Son

20 Life is But a Dream

21 The Call to Duty

22 Off to the Middle East

23 On the Battlefields of Europe

24 Mischief Makers and Lying Tongues

25 Consuming Fires.

Chapter 1

Little Nell.

It is summer in Ireland in the year 1839. It has been a glorious July day, and all nature seems to rejoice in the warmth and joy of Life. There are black thorn edges interwoven with roses and flowering creepers. The grass in the meadows of rich green, wave in the wind, and in many places the much beloved shamrock is growing in all its sweetness.

In the distance is to be heard the sound of men working in the harvest fields gathering in the golden grain. The time will soon come for the toilers to rest from their labour, for the sun is fast sinking in the west, the evening shadows are lengthening, and the fishing boats are busy in the little harbour; some are returning, and others are preparing to go out for the night.

A crowd of fifteen or twenty healthy happy children are playing. Their young hearts are carefree, and they make the evening ring with their shouts and peals of merry laughter. We hear their little jokes in strong Irish accent. One small girl about nine years of age is standing apart from them. She is not interested in their play. There is a faraway look in her eyes. Her thoughts have taken her to a Land across the sea. The wind is blowing through her long black hair that is hanging down her back or falling in tresses over her pretty face.

“I say, Nell”, shouted one of the boys, “why but ye would come and play instead of standing there like a silly donkey”.

She turned on him almost fearlessly and said: “You stupid gassoon, will ye never bar nascence?” Pointing across the sea, she said: “Don’t you see that ship?”

A full rigged four-mast sailing boat was ploughing through the deep with all her sails spread. The water parted before her bows in white foam. The bright rays of the setting sun flashed on the ship and made the sails look like great sheets of silver. Soldiers in uniform walked the decks carrying guns. The big black cannon proclaimed her to be a convict ship bound for the south.

At the sight of this ship the children were quiet, and little Nell spoke again: “Ye can laugh, but ye don’t know who is on that boat. It may be that some of your own are there, for they are taking away a powerful lot just now.”

“And it is yourself that would like to be going”, said one of the boys.

“I would”, said Nell, “and I will someday, but not as a prisoner on a convict ship, but on a free ship that only carries free people.”

This speech brought roars of laughter and some said: “Beggara, how big she talks!”

Nell fled in disgust. Some said there was a wild strain in her. She loved to be free and hated restraint. She was sent to school, but was often missing from the class when she would roam over the bogs, off in the woods after birds’ nests or wild berries. She would tear her clothes hiding in some hedge, when she saw someone she feared would inform on her playing the truant. But, when in school there was one subject that claimed her attention. That was when the old schoolmaster told them stories about Australia; of the great country where the lawbreakers of the old land were sent; of the number of people that were sent to Botany Bay; of the sufferings and cruelty that was imposed on the convicts in Van Diemen’s Land, who were transported for life, in many cases for only small offences.

Some for poaching, others for small thefts, and others for using the black too freely. These people, not being naturally bad, proved by their good conduct and obedience to discipline that they were worthy of their liberty, and received a free pardon. By hard work and honest industry they became independent. News of this kind filtered back to the old land, that Australia was a good country for free men, and it was not long before the better part of the working classes of England, Scotland, and Ireland turned their attention to Australia.

To little Nell’s great joy she found herself on board the good ship England, bound for Australia, where her parents had determined to take their family to improve their position. Nell was now ten years of age. In those old sailing days it took about six months to reach Australia, and she soon became a favourite with all on board. She would talk to the sailors and sing them little Irish songs. Life on a sailing boat needs all the pastime that can be got out of it; but we will not dwell on the events of the trip, only to say they reached the end of their journey safe and sound.

We look at this child of over eighty years ago and think how mysterious are the ways of fate. Who would have dreamt of the tragedy that was to come into her life?

Chapter 2.Australia

At the time of which I write, Australia was little known in the world and only explored to a small extent. A portion of New South Wales had been settled for a number of years, but as far as Victoria was concerned, there had been very little done. Only by squatters, who had taken up large tracks of country and were raising great number of sheep and cattle, the western district was one of the first places to attract settlers. Portland is one of the oldest towns in the state. The north eastern district of Victoria was first inhabited by squatters, who came overland from Sydney and established cattle stations on the Upper Murray. About the same time Wangaratta, now one of the most prosperous country towns sprang into existence.

At the time when the ship England reached these shores, even Melbourne was only a very small place; it seems almost impossible to think that the fine city with its up to date buildings, its broad streets, its tram- and railway system, was no more than a scattered village eighty years ago. But such was the case when the subject of our story first saw it.

The family stayed about Melbourne for some little while and eventually settled at Donnybrook, where they carried on farming in a small way until the gold rush broke out. Then the men went to the diggings; in fact, everyone that could carry a pick and shovel went. People were mad with excitement. Stations and farms were deserted and the stock left to take care of themselves or to stray away into the bush and become wild. I could go on to write about the adventures of those who dug and delved for gold and in many cases never found it, for many pages, but do not intend to do so – only to follow the adventures of Nell’s father and brothers. They followed the diggers first to one rush, then to another one, where gold was unearthed in large quantities. And places that had been wild bush became big towns.

But in many cases those who worked the hardest secured the least. Mining has always been a gamble. Those who were lucky wanted to get more, and in grasping after it lost what they had got. The men who went into business did better than those who dug for gold, because they took no risks. Gradually, in most cases the claims became worked out, and people had to fall back on the land for a living. It is through new going into the bush to look for gold, that some of the finest land in the world has been discovered, and today Australia can boast of being able to grow the finest wheat in the world.

With new towns springing up all over the state, a new industry came to the front. There being no railways, it required a large number of teams to cart the stores to the towns that had sprung into existence through the mining industry. Most of the diggers, who had not become independent but had been able to save enough money to buy a team and wagon, became carriers. They made a good income by carting stores up country, and loading back in Melbourne with wheat and other produce. In time they settled on the land and became prosperous farmers.

So gradually the fertile land of Victoria became settled.

Chapter 3.Towns

Years have passed since the little girl in Ireland stood watching the convict ship. She is no longer a child, but a fine dashing young woman, full of life and spirit. During the time her father and brothers were away, it felt to her lot to help her mother manage the little farm, and no girl could have done it better than she did. She was fond of the cows, but her greatest joy was to ride on horseback. She was well known in the district. There were not many men about, most of them being away at the different gold rushes, but all who knew her treated her with respect; no-one would dare to do otherwise.

There is a time in the life of most girls when they meet their fate, and she was no exception. A young man came into her life; he came over from Tasmania. He stood six feet in his stockings, was broad- shouldered, strong and active, in fact, in every way a fine type of an athlete. One thing that made him remarkable was his thick shack of fiery red hair and bushy whiskers. They called him “Red Ned”. Some say the family did not approve of the match. They did not believe he was a native of Tasmania, and they had their doubts as to how he got there.

Whether this is true or not, it had no weight with the girl; they became devoted lovers. Ned went into the droving business. Although we are told he was a bit fond of whisky, and at times got a drop too much, on the whole he was steady, and saved enough to make a home somewhere in the district of Kilmore. They were married, lived in that part for a number of years, and became the parents of seven children, three boys and four girls. All went on peaceful, and they saved enough money to acquire a small property of their own in the North East, where her people had already gone.

I shall now speak of the lady as Mrs. Kelly, the mother of these young men, who shocked the world by a most dreadful crime and held the country in fear by their daring exploits during their bushranging career. I feel disposed to write this story in an impartial way, not that I have any sympathy for crime - on the contrary! I think it is impossible to maintain law and order if the extreme penalty of the law is not enforced. I believe it is only just and right that he, who sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed; but we should be careful to see that we do not judge unjustly, and so make the innocent suffer with the guilty; that we do not rob people of what is due to them for deeds of self-sacrifice and heroism in the interest of their own flesh and blood. We would not be human, if our hearts did not go out to our children when they were in disgrace. Let us see the good points as well as the bad

in our fellow men - and there has been much in the life of Mrs. Kelly, that is good.

In the year 1865, her husband died. His death was caused through drinking a spirit that was served to him in mistake for brandy. He left a widow with seven children, and in a strange district.

She was lodging in a house at Greta on the bank of the Fifteen Mile Creek. In the night there was a cry of fire. She escaped with her children in their night clothes. All she had in the world was gone, even the few pounds she had saved for a rainy day were burnt in the fire. The neighbours made a collection, bought her some clothes, and set her up in a little house in Wangaratta where she worked hard, going out washing in the day and dressmaking at night.

By honest industry she saved enough to take the boys on to the farm, when they were big enough to work it.

Chapter 4.The Pioneers.

In the early days there was only a stock rout for the greater part of the distance between the Murray and Melbourne. Teamsters made their way as best they could, fording bridgeless rivers and plodding on through bad roads and bush tracks. Passing through Benalla, they come to six miles of level country and pass through Winton on the Seven Mile Creek, where a chain of water holes spreads out, being dry for the greater part of the summer. Winding through the hills they came to the Eleven Mile Creek, which at that time contained deep holes and a never-failing supply of water. Going up the creek they crossed the ranges at what is now called Kelly’s Gap

If we turn to the right and go to the top of the hill, we see one of the finest views in the state. Looking east, we see a broad fertile valley, here and there dotted with five homesteads; hundreds of acres of wheat and oats wave in the wind, and thousands of sheep and cattle are seen grazing on the rich pastures. Here we see the water of the Fifteen Mile Creek as it sparkles in the sunlight. Through the trees in the background are to be seen the Buffalo Mountains - part of the chain of the Great Dividing Ranges. And further away you see snow-capped and towering above them Mount Bogong, the second highest point in Australia, down the side of which the mighty avalanche sweeps, carrying ruin and destruction where ever it flows.

How wonderful are the works of God’s creation! Our eyes turn again to the valley, and looking upon the prosperous district of Greta, we think of the hardihood of the early pioneers of men and women from England, Scotland and Ireland, who crossed the roaring seas in rickety old sailing ships; who fought their way into the bush; who braved dangers, endured hardships, to carve out homes, subdue forests and make the desert blossom like the rose. They were the best, boldest and most thrifty of the people of the old world. To them the men and women of today are indebted for their fine homes and their broad acres, but they have still more to be thankful for a noble example of honesty and uprightness of all that shows the true man.

It may be said that they did not forget the things that are eternal. In Greta there are three churches built to the honour and glory of God - the Church of England, the Roman Catholic, and the Methodist, which has a resident minister. There is also the place to which we are all hastening - God’s area, where the pioneers of the district sleep the last long sleep. One by one they have been gathered home. Now they are all gone, and the few who

are left, that were children when their parents came here, are old men and women. Their hair is as white as the snow on the top of Mount Bogong.

But we must go back to the days of sixty years ago and over, when the heavy wagons lumbered down the old Gap to camp at the Fifteen Mile Creek, what is now known as West Greta. From there, those who were loaded for Beechworth or Bright went across country through Oxley, and those who had loading for Wangaratta, Rutherglen, Chiltern or Eldorado went to the left, and reached Wangaratta after travelling about fifteen miles.

Chapter 5Glenrowan.

There being so many places of growing importance, the Government of Victoria made a survey of what is called the Sydney Road. It was cleared right through bridges built, and some of the worst parts of the road formed. This was the end of the traffic through Kellys Gap. The wagoners now followed the main road or as near to it as they could. There was a place dreaded by both wagoners and coach drivers; it was called “the Crabholes”. In recent years it has been held in equal dread by motorists who knew it as “the Gluepot”, but has now been made a good road by the Government Roads Board.

One of the events of the early days was to see the gold escort go through, surrounded by a heavily mounted police with their rifles and smart trappings. I remember - when a small boy - seeing the escort badly stuck in the crabholes. However, bad roads were not the worst that the escort had to contend with. The North East was badly infested with bushrangers, and if there had not been a strong force, the gold and the lives of the men who were in charge of it would have soon gone.

At that time there were only two buildings in Glenrowan, a hotel and a store, both owned and run by Mr. Wm. Liddle. He did business with the carriers and the few settlers who were within range of his place of business.

At a short distance about a mile from the hotel was a range called Morgan Lookout. It was so named through the presence of a notorious and blood thirsty bushranger, called Morgan, being in the neighbourhood of Glenrowan. For some time he held the outback parts of New South Wales in a state of fear on account of his dreadful deed of robbery outrage and murder.

A squatter from the Upper King River was across the border, and one morning with a friend he came on Morgan camps. The outlaw had gone to catch his horse and was without rifle or revolver. When he drew near the camp, the squatter called upon him to surrender, but he placed his hand over his heart. The man, thinking he was going to draw a revolver, fired, but the only damage done was to blow off the top of Morgan’s finger. He escaped in the scrubs, but he had marked his man and came to Victoria to kill him - a deed he very nearly accomplished. He stuck up the station, and had he been content to shoot the squatter, he could have done so, but his victim was to have a worse death. The monster tied him to a post, and set two haystacks on fire to slowly roast him to death in presence of his servants. Startled by the fire, a

mob of horses started to gallop, and the outlaw, thinking the police were upon him, decamped. It was then easy for one of the men to rush in, cut the bonds and release the doomed man.

Morgan next appeared on the Sydney road about three miles on the Wangaratta side of Glenrowan, where he robed a number of wagoners. Just at dusk he stopped a wagoner I afterwards knew well - the late Mr. Wm. Dowell - and demanded his money. Mr. Dowell said: “My boss is coming along the road with the money”, and he went off up the road. Dowell, seeing the foolish thing he had done, gave the rains to the man he had with him and run off into the bush with a hundred and fifty pounds. Shortly after the highwayman came back in a towering rage and said he had been told a lie and would not stand that from any man. He would shoot the horses and burn the wagon. The man pleaded with him, saying Dowell was only a driver, and the outlaw rode away grumbling that a decent bushranger could not get his rights through the lying tongues of dishonest people. The man drove to the hotel with forty pounds of his own money hidden in the tilt of the wagon. Dowell made his way in the darkness to the hotel and was not troubled by the outlaw again.

The next day Morgan appeared at the Taminick Station, then owned by the late Mr. Ben Warby, but beyond giving the people a fright and having a good meal, he did not interfere with them. He was on his way to the Peechelba Station, about twenty miles away where he was to meet his Waterloo. This station was owned by the late Mr. Rutherford. It was situated near the Ironbark Ranges, about twenty miles from the Murray River. The nearest neighbour was a squatter about ten miles away on the Ovens. Morgan bailed up the station, assembled all the station hands together with the servants and Mr. & Mrs. Rutherford in a large room. He made them bring him refreshments, and he indulged in a quantity of strong drink - one of the things that had helped to bring him to be the monster that he was. In a half-drunken state he was determined to make merry and ordered his prisoners to dance to music, supplied by Mrs. Rutherford, while he beat time on the piano with his revolver. Growing tired of this, he told them all to be silent, while he pretended to sleep with a revolver in each hand. They were in a state of terror and were almost afraid to move for fear he would accuse some of them with attempting to escape, and so make an excuse to satisfy his thirst for human blood. He had been known to shoot people for sport and commit the most dreadful outrages on defenceless women. No man’s life was safe when he was about, and all women within his reach were in danger of his fiendish lust.

If they had only known deliverance was on the way! Hours before a brave girl had crept out of the room and was running for her life through the bush. She started at every sound fearing a fate worse than death, but fear gave her strength, and she reached the station ten miles away. In a state of great excitement she told her story, and then fell in a faint. A messenger galloped to Wangaratta, and before daylight the homestead was surrounded by police and volunteers, who had offered their services to assist in the capture of the greatest monster that ever infested the Australian bush. Morgan, worn out with his debauchery, slept soundly. The terrified people could hear his heavy breathing, and shuddered to think what might be their fate when he woke up.

There was a streak of light in the east. The sun rose; the dreadful night was over. The ruffian moved, and then groaned: “I must go. Come, Rutherford! Show me your horses, and I will take the best on the station”.

They came out of the house and were walking to the stables. There was the sharp crack of a rifle, and Morgan fell to rise no more. The police were upon him. Someone said: “They have got you at last!” and he replied: “Yes! And if he had given me a chance, I would have had some of them”.

So ended an evil and misspent life. His body was taken to Wangaratta and buried by the police in the Wangaratta cemetery where the grave is still plainly to be seen. He was shot by a man named Quinlan, an employee of an adjoining station. A reward of seven hundred and fifty pounds was given him. The brave girl was also rewarded. But the money was of little use to poor Quinlan. The tragedy so prayed on his mind, that he lost his reason and ended his days in an asylum for the insane.

Chapter 6.The Eleven Mile Creek

We have spoken of this place before, but it was in the days when it was a stopping place for wagoners All that is left to show that they have been there are the old tracks through the bush and the deep ruts showing signes of many a bog.

The first time I saw this place was on the 8th March, 1866. My father had taken up land not far from the Winton swamp. We had just arrived from a place near Melbourne. It was a dry season, what we now call a drought. The swamp was dry, and we had to drive our cattle to the creek. Many others had to do the same. How the poor thirsty brutes quickened their pace and bellowed when they smelt the water!!

How well I remember the old place! In fancy I can see it now as I saw it then in its wild bush state. On the hill was a large sheep fold, and on the place where Mr. Lees’ homestead now stands was a shepherd’s hut. The shepherd took the sheep out on the sun in the daytime, and put them in the fold at night. There was a Chinees cook, and he spent his spare time making straw balls, which he sold for the modest sum of twenty one shillings each. On the other side of the Creek, where Mr. Matt Kenneally’s homestead now stands, were the remains of the old stables, where Cobb and Co. mail coaches used to change horses, but Winton is now the changing station, and the coaches come to the creek no more. Further south is a big hill with very few trees on it. At that time it was called the Big Bald Hill, but it is now known as Hart’s Hill. Almost under the shadow of this hill was the home of a solitary settler on the bank of the creek among the wattles. A number of willow trees had been planted around the house and had already grown to a good size. The walls of the house were slab and the roof stringy bark with sapling riders to keep the bark in its place. A number of children were playing regardless of the loneliness of the place.

Years went by, and as a lad of about thirteen years of age I took my father’s cattle to the creek. Other settlers sent their boys with cattle, too, and if they had no boys, they sent their girls. And these who had neither came themselves.

I remember a jolly old chap who hailed from the Emerald Isles. He used to bring his milking cows from somewhere over the hills - I did not know where. He would sit in the shade and tell yarns by the hour. One story I never forgot: “Do ye know how I got my wife? Oh, ye don’t? Well, I will tell you. I was a wagoner.

At one of the pubs I used to camp at, there was a powerful pretty girl. I set my cap at her but had no luck. I had my suspicion that she had more than a sneaking regard for that young dandy, Jack Hogan, who put all he earned on his back. So I said to myself ‘Frank, old man, ye will have to run cunning!’ And I did. When I got paid for my loading at Beechworth, I went to the bank and got it changed into pound notes. Then I got a lot of old newspapers and made a bundle as big as a bushel, and carefully covered it with the pound notes. When I got back to the pub, I took it to her and said her: ‘Mary, take care of this bit of money for me. And we will think about getting’ married’. But she said: ‘Oh, Frank dear, someone might steal it! We had better got married at once’. And beggara! We did. And that is how I beat flash Jack Hogan”.

About this time, another joined the company on the creek - a boy about my own age. He was riding a smart black pony, and proudly told us it was a galloper and could clear any fence in the North East. The boy was alert and active, with piercing black eyes that look in everything at a glance. He wore strapped trousers, a red shirt, and straw hat tilted forward, secured by a strap under his nose. The back of his head was broad and covered with close cropped hair as black and shiny as a crow. His jaw was heavy, his lips thin, and when closed tightly, there seemed to be something cruel in them; but when they relaxed into a smile, he appeared to be a jovial good nature fellow. His name was Dan Kelly, and he was a great lover of horses. I was the only one of the other boys who had a horse – a bay pony. She had belonged to a clergyman and was an honest goer. Dan ran his eye over my horse and proposed that we should have a race. - a challenge I gladly accepted. When he found he could not shake me off, he developed a great respect for me, and declared there was not a kangaroo in the whole country that could get away from us. So we went kangaroo hunting. Not once but many times I left my cows to look after themselves, or bribed some of the other boys to look after them for me with the promise of some skins of a kangaroo tail, to make whip crackers. We sometimes saw Ned Kelly, but he was a few years older than we were, and regarded himself as too big for my company.

Time went by…., Dan Kelly and the creek went out of my life, but I am looking at it in 1922, how changed everything is. The place is all divided into paddocks by good fences. Where there was only one family in the early days, there are now upwards of twenty families, and they have become well to do by producing wheat and oats, butter, wool, lambs and beef. Here rich fruit grows to perfection. Who in this part has not heard of Harleys’ Orchard with its famous apples and orange? A lot of money has been made by cutting timber into railway sleepers and bridge timber.

If we look around, we will find there is a state school. The children no longer run wild in the bush, but are educated, and prepared to go out and fight the battle of life. If we go into the school, we will see there is an honour board with the names of men from the district who have fought and bled for the Empire. On the wall is an enemy machine gun captured from the Germans. On Sundays the building is used for a church, and good men preach the Gospel of Christ, telling their hearers that God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son; that who so ever believeth in him, shall have eternal life

The place was changed very much for the better. The fact that men band themselves together for the common good of humanity is the best proof that can be given of the advancement of any place, no matter what it has been.

Chapter 7Bad Company

How many times it has been said: “Evil connection corrupts good manners”, and it is a true saying. Show me a man’s company, and I will tell you the kind of man he is. Since our first parents fell and brought on the human race the wrath of God, the Earth has been full of sin and wickedness, and the world was condemned to bring forth thorns and briars. How they grow, the richer the ground is, the more they thrive: the plank is more easily trained in the way nature inclines it to grow. So Ned Kelly became an easy prey to an unscrupulous scoundrel, and brought upon his family ruin disgrace and the ill-will of the public.

The man, Harry Power by the name, was a convicted criminal and a daring ruffian He chose the North East for his exploits of highway robbery under arms. He was cunning and carried out many a deep–laid plan. He would disappear for a time, and the police would be hunting for him without being able to find a clue as to his whereabouts; then people would be shocked by a daring coach robbery in a locality where it was least expected he would be. It might be the Bright -, the Beechworth -, the Yackandandah coach, or a coach on the way to some township on the Upper Murray. He was never known to take human life, but doubtless he would have done so, had he not succeeded in frightening his victims into quick submission. He was rough and course, and he flaunted a lot of menacing, profane oaths. The women were insulted and bullied by him, but only in one case has he been said to go as far as actual violence. Holding his revolver to a woman’s head, he ordered her to strip off all her clothes in the presence of all the other passengers. The poor woman, in tears and trembling with fear, protested. The highwayman relented, and said that after all, it would be mean of him to compel her to do it.

An amusing story was told by the late Mr. Robert McBean J.P., at the time owner of the Tatong Station. Riding through the bush one day on horseback, and mistaking Power for one of the station hands, he said: “Good day, Bill!”

“I found myself looking into the barrel of a revolver”, said Mr. McBean, and a gruff voice said: “Confound your impudence! I will teach you how to speak to a gentleman." Fancy you calling me Bill. Hand over your watch and chain and your money! I am Mr. Power”.

It has been said by other writers that the watch and chain were returned, but I never heard so from Mr. McBean, who was a personal friend of mine. At any rate, I am quite sure it was not

returned in the way stated; neither did the person, who was held responsible for returning it, had anything to do with it. That there were a number of dishonest people in league with the robber was quite apparent, while others refrained from giving information for fear of violence.

It became noised abroad that young Kelly had joined hands with Power. He had been seen in his company , but the worst that could be said was that he was suspected of aiding and abetting him in his deed of crime by letting him know the movements of the police or bringing him provisions, and at most, holding the horses while Power committed the robberies. There was no proof that he did any of these things.

Power’s place of hiding was on the Upper King River. His camp had been found different times, but the bird had always flown. The only way to reach his hiding place was through a narrow gorge past a farm house. The farmer had some peacocks, and while it was possible to deceive the dogs, the peacock always gave a loud cry. This alarmed the bushranger and the police would find nothing but a deserted camp, a smouldering fire, and a few empty fish tins.

One wet night, four policemen guided by a black tracker crept past without alarming the bird. They found Power asleep. Covering him with their revolvers, they made him a prisoner. He stood his trial, was convicted of highway robbery under arms, and sentenced to fifteen years hard labour in Pentridge Gaol for the term of his natural life, but he lived to serve his sentence and regain liberty. A benevolent lady made him her gardener, and he lived in comfort and loved to tell of his exploits until he died a very old man.

However, he had sown the seeds of sin in a young heart that were to ripen into deeds of crime far worse than he had committed. How these thorns and briars grow! He had talked to Ned Kelly about an easy living, and had laughed at the idea of honest work. Kelly was soon on the downward road, and found himself in the hands of the police charged with cattle stealing; he stood his trial at Beechworth, was found guilty, and sentenced to eighteen months hard labour in Pentridge Gaol.

This was before the north eastern railway was completed. The line was only opened as far as Longwood. My father went there on business and took me with him. I saw the coach arrive, surrounded by a strong escort of police; I saw Kelly taken off the coach and placed in a railway carriage. Oh, the thorns and briars! I saw this fair youth manacled to an old man. By the degraded look on his face it was plain his life had been spent in sin. The thorns and the briars had filled his heart - there was no room for honesty, no room

for virtue in his besotted soul. Now he has a pupil in the boy handcuffed at his side. He will not fail to drag deeper into the mirth and day of sin. If our prison system could be so arranged that young offenders could be kept apart from hardened criminals, it would give them a chance to reform. There would be less excuse for them going wrong after they had served their first sentence.

When Ned Kelly came out of prison, he returned back to the creek and made an attempt to earn an honest living by horse- breaking. I remember that he broke in a horse for my father. At that time a great part of the country was still open, and young horses were allowed to roam about in the bush. I shall never forget the wild gallop we had after those horses. They had not been yarded for many months and were determined that they were not going to be. We chased them over hills and through swamps. I could not help thinking what a dashing fearless fellow Ned Kelly was! A companion he had with him, who was known as Bricky, was, if possible, reckless. At length the horses were yarded, and Ned was soon on the back on the one he was to break –in; he took it away and returned it in due course.

But then, he had been in jail, and a great many people avoided him. He was seen less and less on the creek. His bad company had made him to be not only dishonest, but discontented, and his brooding led him into a career of crime that ended in his death on the gallows.

Chapter 8.The Thunder Clouds Brim.

In September of the year 1877, on the creek all nature was at its best. The birds were singing on the trees, the little busy hummingbirds, as they flew from flower to flower, sucked the honey from the blossom of the great ironbark trees , The creek along its winding course is lined with wattles all in a blaze of golden glory.

Under the shade of a big box tree a young man is seated on a horse. He is tall and dark. There is something striking about his face; you would not call it handsome. There was something about his eyes that was hard to understand. Every few minutes he took up the valley as if expecting someone. Now let us look at the horse - it is a lovely doubled bay. It tosses its head and paws the ground with its front feet. It is well shod and well groomed; by its appearance we would say it is a trooper’s horse. We look closely and see by the brands that it is. The horse lifts up his head and gives a loud neigh. We hear the sound of horses’ hooves, and we see a horseman coming down the creek. When the rider draws near, we see it is not a man, but a woman, riding astride. This is an uncommon sight, for in those days riding astride was regarded as an offence against decency. This is only a girl in her teens, but a girl of bewitching beauty. Her features are well rounded, her eyes are large and dark, and her long black wavy hair and the flush of health in her face makes her look a perfect picture.

By the way they meet we see they are no strangers. Their horses are drawn up close together The man places his hand on her horse’s withers, and whispers in the girl’s ear the old ,old story of love. The girl drew back with a long harsh laugh, but then her eyes filled with tears and she said: “No, that is impossible! Surely, you have thought of my brothers - Ned has already been in jail, and people say dreadful things about him. You have to maintain the law; it would be bad for us both”. But his answer was: “Kate, my love, I would give up anything, go through anything for you!" If you had only known I have warded off suspicion against your brothers many times!”

“Oh, don’t speak about them”, she said, “it hurts me”, but his tongue was loosen, and he poured out such a story of love and flattery, that it was no wonder she was carried away by him. She broke off a peace of wattle and played with the golden spray of blossoms, then pretended to beat him off, when he pleaded for just one kiss; it did not end with one, but many kisses. He had won her heart, but she was taking no risks. When he proposed that they

should get off their horses and sit on the nice soft grass, she touched her horse, and was gone like a flash.

This was only one of many meetings during the next few months. He grew bolder, sometimes calling at her mother’s house.

There were reports of cattle stealing in the district. Dan Kelly was suspected, a warrant had been issued for his arrest, but he was supposed to have escaped to another part of the state. In 1878, Constable Fitzpatrick rode up to Mrs. Kelly’s house, and to his surprise, the first person he saw was Dan Kelly. Here was Fitzpatrick’s chance to arrest him, but he had not got the warrant with him; still, he would chance taking him without it - perhaps it might mean promotion to him! Whatever feeling there might be for Kate, it would soon blow over.

He put Dan under arrest. Dan said: “Very well, I will go with you, but I suppose you will let me have my dinner first.” Glad of the chance to show kindness, Fitzpatrick gave his consent.

During the dinner there was a brawl and the policeman was knocked unconscious. When he recovered, his prisoner had escaped, and his helmet was smashed by a blow. He returned to Benalla with a bullet hole in the sleave of his coat. He swore that while Dan Kelly was having his dinner, Ned Kelly appeared at the door and fired several shots at him at point blank range, and Skillion, a son in law of Mrs. Kelly, and a man, named Williamson, covered the constable with revolvers, while the Kellys escaped. He also reported that Mrs. Kelly hit him on the head with the fire shovel.

Mrs. Kelly and the two men were arrested and stood trial. Their version was different: While Dan was having his dinner, Mrs. Kelly’s daughter came into the room, and the constable threw his arms around her and kissed her. This so enraged the mother, that she picked up the fire shovel and knocked him senseless. If there was a bullet hole in his coat, he must have fired it himself. Dan was the only man present. Both Skillion and Williamson swore they were nowhere near the place and knew nothing about the affair.

On the face on this, all three were found guilty. Mrs. Kelly was sentenced to three years imprisonment, and the men to five years hard labour each. It does not seem like British Justice to impose such a severe sentence on the uncorroborated evidence of one witness, taking it for granted that the evidence for the defence was weak, and that it was not believed by the jury.

The punishment was unduly severe. How natural it is for people to look for the worst rather than the best that can be found in their fellow-men! If we commit a breach of the law, we have to suffer, and the worst of it is that we are not the only ones, who are held responsible. We have forfeited the honour of the name of the family, to which we belong. It was the case with the unhappy Kelly family. The state of that country at that time lent itself to deeds of dishonesty, principally cattle stealing. Many thousand of acres were still open, and the greater part of it was hilly bush country. Farmers at Winton and other places turned their dry cattle and young stock into the bush, allowing them to roam about at will. Some of them were not seen for months. It was quite easy for cattle thieves to drive them off and sell them in some other part of the state; this was often done.

Ned Kelly was a convicted thief, but there were many others just as bad, and some of them sheltered behind him. The old saying “give a dog a bad name and he will keep it, and in most cases make it worse” is true. The family were not naturally bad - a statement, I think, I will be able to prove in this story. Indeed, I will go further and say that there was a lot of good in them. There were two things that led them astray: his lawless state of the country, and the lack of parental restraint. The severe sentence passed on Mrs. Kelly prevented her from exercising what little influence she might have had on her sons.

The thunder clouds had burst, and it meant tens of thousands of pounds to the country, and the loss of many lives.

Chapter 9

Murder at the Stringybark Creek in the Wombat Ranges.

The Kelly brothers had started their career of crime. They had been weighed in the balance and were determined to set at defiance law and order. For some time their whereabouts could not be found. Then it became known that they were hiding in the Stringybark Ranges in the Toomboollup district. It was whispered that two others had joined the gang. This proved to be too true, their names were Steve Hart from South Wangaratta and Joe Byrne from the Woolshed near Beechworth, and they proved a most formidable combination, determined to stop at nothing They had large numbers of relations, some respectable, law-abiding people, who deeply deplored the disgrace the gang had brought upon them, while others openly aided and abetted them, if not in their crimes, in assisting them to escape the avenging hand of justice. It has always been evident that now, who defies the law, bares the sympathy of a large number. They are the people that are against the government and they were never a reliable source in giving evidence during the reign of the Kelly Gang.

A party of four policemen were sent to the Stringybark Ranges to capture the escaped Ned, but they little knew the desperate nature of the undertaking they had in hand, and that the dead bodies of three of them could be brought out of the hills on pack-horses. The party was led by Sergeant Kennedy, a brave and efficient officer from Mansfield. The names of the other men were McIntyre, Scanlon and Lonigan. They were drawn from different small towns.

In the case of Lonigan, there was an evidence of presentiment – how things are hard to understand! They may or may not be from the spiritual world. How many cases have we heard of during the dreadful world inside war, where men, who were in danger, and who have led wonderful escapes in many a bold charge, have at last gone off with a strange foreboding that they would never return? In most cases it has come true – it was so in Lonigan’s case. He had kissed his wife and children bidding them a loving farewell, mounted his horse and rode away some distance, when he turned around, came back, dismounted, took them one by one in a long affectionate embrace and pressed them to his heart. This was the last time they were to be in the arms and caress of a good husband and kind father.

All went well with them so far, and they reached the ranges without adventure, but it was thought that a word was given to the

Kellys about their movements, and they suspected that the police were coming

On their arrival at Stringybark Creek the policemen found unmistakeable signs that there had been someone there not long before, but the men they wanted were nowhere to be seen.

They pitched their tent and made themselves comfortable for the night. In the morning the sun was bright and clear, the bush was alive with the songs of the birds. They heard chatter of the parrots, the screech of the gang-gangs, and in the distance the cry of a dingo, but the wild hills seemed to contain no human life. After breakfast they looked to their weapons and made a search around the camp, but discovered nothing. Kennedy and Scanlon went down the creek on horseback to look for tracks, and Lonigan and McIntyre stayed at the camp to cook the dinner.

Lonigan was no engaged when he heard someone call out: “Bail up!” and he saw that four men had him covered with rifles. The Kellys!!!

Being a brave man, he was not going to fall into their hands without trying to make a fight of it, but no sooner did he place his hand on his revolver than he fell dead with a rifle bullet through the brain. McIntyre came out of the tent, and seeing the fate of his comrade, he held up his hands, and was made prisoner. The men searched him and made him stand back, while one of the desperados stood guard over him.

“Why did you shoot Lonigan?” asked McIntyre. “Because he would have shot us”, said they. Then they grew alert. In the distance could be heard the sound of the tramp of horses’ feet and men’s voices. The two other troopers were drawing near. Ned Kelly said to McIntyre: “If you play the game, we will not hurt you, but if you get up to any tricks, you will die. Go and meet your mates! Get them to surrender to avoid bloodshed!”

McIntyre did so, but they were men of courage and scorned such a thing. Scanlon was carrying a rifle slung over his shoulder, secured by a strap. No sooner did he put his hand on it than a shot made the forest ring, and he fell dead with a bullet through his throat. Sergeant Kennedy, still undaunted, sprang from his horse, intending to use it for a cover while he fought the murderers of his comrades. When he dismounted, McIntyre sprang on the horse from the other side and galloped away, followed by a shower of bullets, some of which wounded the horse. Still he pressed on, leaving poor Kennedy to his fate. At last the horse fell dead. Then he ran as far as his legs would carry him. So terrified was he that

he crept into a large wombat hole, where he remained for the day: We can imagine the extreme horror of his position and the desperate thoughts that would pass through his mind: There was no hope for Kennedy…… they would kill him …..then they would track the horse. …… and would be sure to find his hiding place ….. and they will kill, for they know that a dead man will tell no tales…….

A mob of kangaroos scamped through the bush. He starts with a cry upon his lips:

“They are here! Oh, that is the end. May it be swift and painless!”

But no! All is silent again. He is cramped from the position he has been in. The movement has hurt him. He is unable to restrain cold, grotty drops of perspiration falling off his face. Hours seem like years……

At last it is dark. He comes from his hiding place. His limbs are numbed and refuse to move. Little by little his strength returns to him, and he is able to start on his long journey.

The church bells are ringing in Mansfield; never had he heard such sweet music as the bells were to him that day. The people are on their way to the places of worship. They are surprised at the appearance of a man with his clothes torn and tattered, dragging himself wearily along the street. Little did these people know about the grim tragedy he was about to reveal.

The district was shocked at the dreadful murder. A strong force was soon organised to go in pursuit of the murderers. It was dark when they reached Stringybark Creek. The Kellys were gone. The police tent was still there, and the bodies of Lonigan and Scanlon were soon found. Kennedy’s body was found some distance from the others. He evidently had made a running fight, and was overtaken and killed. His face was disfigured. Some were of the opinion that the gang tortured him to compel him to give them information they wanted; I am more inclined to think the damage was done by wild dogs or dingoes that infested the ranges.

The bodies of the murdered troopers were taken to Mansfield where they were buried. A monument was erected in the town in memory of the police who were murdered by the Kelly Gang at Stringybark Creek.

Chapter 10Outlawed

An inquest was held on the bodies at Mansfield, where McIntyre gave his startling evidence. Some say he was a coward to desert his sergeant, but it is evident that his position was desperate, and had he remained there would have been very little chance of his life being spared. It is a good thing that he escaped, or the whole business might have remained a mystery for all times.

At the inquest a verdict of wilful murder was brought in against Ned Kelly, Dan Kelly, Joe Byrne and Steve Hart. The Victorian Government declared them to be outlaws, and placed a reward of one thousand pounds each on their heads, dead or alive.

The public were shocked at the dreadful outrage the gang had committed. It was thought that the avenging hand of justice would soon be upon them, but in this they were doomed to disappointment. There is in every country a large number of dishonest people who have no respect for the law. They hate as well as dread the uniform of the police. Another class are the relatives of criminals. They are not dishonest themselves and have no sympathy with deeds of violence, yet the ties of nature are so strong that they are unable to resist the temptation to keep silence, or even to refrain from assisting them to escape, if it was in their power to do so.

Bushranging was always very expensive; so many had to be bribed by what was called “bush money”, and the bushrangers employed spies to let them know when danger was near. Such unprincipled scoundrels are, unfortunately, far too numerous. They neither care for the law nor the law-breaker, all they want is monetary gain for themselves.

The trail was followed by the police from Stringybark Creek further into the ranges, but was soon lost in the rough country. Days lengthened into weeks, and weeks into months; still, the pursuers seemed no nearer discovering the whereabouts of the outlaws. The police force was strengthened and their pay was doubled. Hundreds of men were employed scouring the North East in the parts where it was thought the outlaws might be, but all without success.

Mrs Kelly was liberated from jail and allowed to go home in the hope that the sons would visit their mother, but they kept away. Two of the daughters, Kate and Grace, were both expert horsewomen. They had inherited some of the wild spirit of the bush, and they loved to gallop over the ranges. Many an old-man

kangaroo has looked back with fear in his eyes, when Kate was in hot pursuit on her dashing bay. The police thought that these excursions into the hills might lead to a clue, and the Kelly sisters were shadowed, but all to no avail. They were never seen to meet anyone, then they pulled down their mother’s house and did not leave a stick or a stone standing. Mrs. Kelly had another house built on the other side of the creek, and there were reports that the outlaws had been seen in some place. The police would rush off, only to meet with disappointment or to hear that they were in some other place a hundred miles away. And so it went on month after month.

At length some enterprising person invented a story that the Kellys had escaped from Australia on a boat that sailed from Sydney, bound for America, Ned disguised as a clergyman and two of the other outlaws as women. There were some who were foolish enough to believe it, but the police were unshaken in their belief that the gang were still in the district. Where they were will never be known, but it was evident that they were in close touch with a number of sympathisers. They have been credited by some writers with sticking up stores and robbing people on the roads. I think I am safe in saying they never did anything of the kind - they only played for big game. The bank robberies, cunningly planned by Ned, were carried out like clockwork.

Ned Kelly could almost be regarded as a sort of a Robin Hood, robbing the rich and giving to the poor. It is a very great pity that his talents were used in the wrong direction.

Chapter 11.The Euroa Bank Robbery

The Kellys had been in hiding for many months and it was evident they were short of funds. Their agents, not yet known to the police, would be growing restless and wanting to know if harbouring them was worth the risk if they were to get nothing for it. So the outlaws made their plans to rob the Euroa Bank.

They cut the telegraph wires on both sides of the town and stuck up a cattle station about four miles on the Benalla side of Euroa. They made prisoners of all the people of the station. One man, a Scotsman, refused to go into the storeroom, but Ned Kelly put the revolver in his mouth, and he replied: “Man, I smell powder there now. I will do whatever you want me to do”.

Making their prisoners secured, the outlaws then took two of the buggies from the station and they drove into Euroa a little before three o’clock - at the most busy time of the day. So well did they lay their plans, that they were able to commit the robbery, close the bank, and take the manager and his wife and children together with the clerks and drive them all off in the presence of many people in the street. On their way to the station on the main road they met a funeral; pulling to the side, they stopped, removed their hats and bared heads, and sat in a state of reverence until the funeral train has passed. Several of the bank manager’s friends were in the procession and nodded to him, thinking he was out for a pleasure trip with some friends, never dreaming that the party were being carried off by a band of outlaws carrying eight thousand pound from the bank.

When they arrived at the station, the guard reported all well. The prisoners had been orderly and well behaved. Another man had been added to the number of prisoners - a hawker of drapery. He was brought out to show the goods he had in his wagon. The Kelly Gang bought four suits of clothes and paid him for them with some of the gold they had taken from the bank. Then they demanded refreshments, and after having a hearty meal, they were preparing to take their departure.

Dan Kelly said: “While you are packing up, I will go and have a bit of fun with one of the women”, but Ned answered him very crossly: “You will do nothing of the kind while I am the leader of this gang. No woman shall be molested. And I insist on every member of my party treating all women with respect!”

The horses were saddled, the money strapped on them. The outlaws rode away with the threat that anyone who gave information would be shot.

Chapter 12.Unsuccessful pursuit.

For some time the people, who had passed through such a startling experience, sat looking at each other, almost afraid to speak or even move. The gang had ridden away into the night, but who could say that they had not returned? They might even now be lying in wait to shoot anyone that would have to make bold to try to get away to spread the news of their desperate doings!

At last a move was made. There was no sign of the robbers being about. The bank manager and his party were driven into Euroa. The news soon spread of the daring exploit of the Kelly Gang. An attempt was made to wire the news to Melbourne and Benalla, but the foresight of the gang prevented that being accomplished. Indeed, they were bold enough to be seen cutting the wires when a train was passing. The train crew thought they were experts repairing the line. No message could be sent until some man went to Longwood on a railway trolley, and the news was telegraphed to Melbourne. A special train was despatched with a strong force of mounted police and black trackers. They arrived at Euroa early the next morning, but the outlaws had got a long start. The trail was easy to find. It led in the direction of the Strathbogie Ranges. The police came on several camps, but the wanted men disappeared into the ranges. Still they followed them over hills, up creeks, through mountain passes and along bridle tracks. The travelling was becoming hard for both men and horses, and they were in great danger of being shot down from some ambush.

No one knows the risk they had taken, only those who have been in these places. There are eaves so inaccessible that one man could defy a whole company. Still they pressed on, mile after mile. At length they came to a piece of tableland. Here, there had been a recent camp; the fire was still smouldering, but there was no sign of anyone being in locality. The strangest thing of all was that there was a jumble of fresh tracks, made leading in ever so many different directions. The police tried first one track, and then another, but all without success. The tracks would go through the scrub and disappear on the rocks. It was impossible to follow them, and the police had to confess that they were beaten. Tired, worn out and disheartened, they returned to Euroa, no nearer to solving the mystery than ever. The outlaws had disappeared as completely as if the earth had opened and swallowed them up.

Theory after theory was considered, only to be rejected as impossible. It was quite evident they could not have done what they did without a large number of accomplices – or what is

known as “sleeping partners”. Most likely, there were a number of others in the plot, and it was part of the program that they should meet the Kellys on the tableland, or be there waiting for them. When they came there, they would divide up the cash and go away in different directions. It was obvious that the gang did not go to the tent, where the police expected to find them.

It is a well known fact that the Kellys had relatives in many parts of the state and a number of friends unknown to the police. These friends would gladly shelter them because they knew they would be well paid. These young desperados knew the country from the Murray to the sea; they have been over it many times. Also, they had trained their horses to mountain climbing and would ride over hills and through trackless ranges, where no other horseman would dare to follow. It has been said – but I do not know on what authority - that when they succeeded in throwing their pursuers off their track they went straight across the ranges into Gippsland, where in many parts they could go about unsuspected. They were credited with going into Bairnsdale to buy provisions on more than one occasion, and it is quite likely they did. The police were working for four men, when often there was only one.

There was a wild story that the outlaws were hiding in the Buchan caves. I don’t give it much credit, even though the caves would appear to be an ideal place to hide in, when they were still in their original state, but at that time the Kellys were unknown to anyone who has seen them of recent years. A well known fact was that I the Kellys visited Orbost; it was supposed that they had relations there.

In any case, the outlaws did not stay anywhere long. They were fleeing from the avenger of blood and were at enmity with the world. They had broken the laws of God and man. Thoughts of their evil deeds were ever with them. In the dark they would start at the slightest sound. They would see the bodies of their victims lying stiff and stark, or the pleading eyes of Sergeant Kennedy, when he begged them to spare his life for the sake of his wife and children. They flattered themselves with the thought that they had only taken human life when it was to save their own - what right had people to stand in the way of their evil deeds? If they did, they were prepared to take more life. How hardened men can become! What right had they to take other peoples property? What right had they to make widows and fatherless children? The blood of three honest men was crying out for vengeance. The mills grind slowly but exceedingly small, so they could not shake off the thoughts of the dreadful fate that was to overtake them. They dreaded the police; they could outwit them, but they could not get away from

their own thoughts, which were always there with them like some horrid nightmare.

What could they do? Where could they go? They would think out places for their escape, but then they thoughts would scare them out of their wits up to weakness and cowardice, and they would not try to get away, but plan fresh robberies instead. They would show their cunning, daring and skill from time to time. They got news of the police; they read in the papers where the police were hot on their track. They know that the police were either going to overwhelm them or starve them out, and they laughed when they knew this was going to be done hundreds of miles from where they really were. The man in the street was saying: “We have heard the last of the Kellys! They have got out of the country, and by this time are the other side of the world”.

Money is the great power. With that they can go anywhere, but they had no intention of leaving the country, even if they could. They had finally made a decision of what they were going to do. They had planned another bank robbery that was to be a greater success than Euroa.

Chapter 13The Jerilderie Bank Robbery

(Missing)

Chapter 14The Mystery Deepens

(The beginning of this chapter is missing.)

While the mystery had deepened, the outlaws were laying out their plans for a still more daring outrage. They were prepared to undertake anything. So far everything had gone well with them. They had been able to bluff their pursuers and woe-betide the men who dared to stand in the way of their plans. They were drunk with success, and thought no skill could conquer their cunning. They were like the elusive Pimpernel; we seek him here, we seek him there, those French seek him everywhere; is he in heaven, is he in hell, that damned elusive Pimpernel?

The Kellys had thought out a scheme, by which they were to be proof against rifle bullets. A morning, when a number of the farmers in Greta went out to plough, they found that their mouldboards had been stolen. Brown, Smith, and Jones met in Wangaratta, they had all come for the same purpose, to order new mouldboards. Soon they were joined by five or six more angry farmers, who had come in for the same business. It was most annoying that their ploughing should be delayed. They were loud in the condemnation of the silly practical joke of some brainless hooligans. Most likely, their boards were lying at the bottom of some dam in the district, and would not be found until the next drought came. Not a few of the angry men said damn suspicious things.

Events proved that it was not a joke, but a deep laid plan. The gang had secured the services of a blacksmith to make the stolen mouldboards into suits of armour. The man was a farmer, who had been working in the district, but no one would suspect him – he was a good man who never failed to attend church, a Methodist who always stood for the prayer meetings. And he was deeply grieved at the dishonesty of the mean thief who stole the farmers’ mouldboards.

The blacksmith disappeared shortly after the boards were taken, and was never seen again. It was thought he had been well paid, and betook himself to fields green and pastures new.

There was much talk as to where and how the armour was made. It was quite evident that the work was done in the bush. There was the place in the ranges only known to a few, who called it “Devil’s Basin”. It was only accessible from one point, and that was so overgrown with scrub and undergrowth, as to make the entrance hard to find. It was thought that that this was the safe retreat, where the blacksmith worked with hammer and tongs. The measurements of the men must have been taken. Every suit fitted perfectly; the armour was cleverly made, protecting the whole of the body. The front and back plates were joined at the side with rings and fastened with a clasp on the opposite side, so that they could be quickly removed. There was a sort of apron to protect the upper parts of the legs, and shoulder plates for the shoulders. The helmet was made of three pieces of mouldboard. The two front plates were riveted to the back plate, and a slit was left for the eyes. When the helmet was worn, its weight rested on the shoulders of the body plates. Ned Kelly’s armour weighed between eighty and ninety pounds. The others were not so heavy.

I had the chance of trying on the armour, and I saw distinctly the stain of the sap from a green tree. This proved that the armour had been made in the bush and turned into shape on logs, cut for the purpose.

Chapter 15The Murder at the Woolshed.

It has often been said that there is honour among thieves, and it is true in many cases; they will suffer rather than betray their friends. Very few will be tempted by money, but those who are, bring upon themselves the hatred and revenge of those they have betrayed.

The gang have been hiding in perfect safety and could have remained there until the want of funds compelled them to make another raid. But one of their friends had proved false and they knew it, so they determined that the traitor must die. They would use his death as a decoy for their much hated pursuers and thus, they will be revenged on the police.

For years there had been a compact between Kelly and Byrne. They were both wild sons of the hills. Byrne’s mother lived in the Woolshed District, and living not far from her was Joe’s cousin, a young man named Aaron Sherritt, who had been in close touch with the movements of the Kelly Gang. He was an acquaintance of the Kelly family for years. Some have gone as far as to say that there was a love affair between Aaron and Kate. I do not think there is much grounds for the statement, but if he was a rejected lover, he soon consoled himself with another girl. Now he had been married for some time.

Aaron was suspected of being one of a party who meet the gang in the hills after they robbed the Euroa Bank, and assisted in carrying off the spoil. He was arrested and put in jail, but there was no proof of his guilt.

The Kelly scare became so great that efforts to capture the gang were doubled. Not only police, but scores of detectives were employed. They were at railway trains, working in places of business, or carrying their swags on the roads. Some, disguised as tramps, begged their bread in order to gain any information that was usually not to be got. The police went into the ranges and made camps exactly the same as the bushrangers’.

Sherritt was still in the pay of the outlaws, but was also in the pay of the police. He was doing well; his victims did not suspect him. Soon the police would be hot on the trail. He had visions of wealth and comfort. When the gang were all dead, he would go away where he was not known, and live on the reward.

He used his house as a secret meeting place for the police in the night. Often they were hiding there in the day. There was a

police camp in the ranges near Beechworth. It was well hidden by rocks and scrub. The police were waiting for Sherritt to bring them news.

But their presence was known to someone else. An old woman was lying in the rocks, overlooking the camp. Day and night she had been there. Aaron Sherritt had got news of the gang, and came to the camp to tell the police. She saw him - and it sealed his doom. Dan Kelly and Joe Byrne went to his house one dark night. Kelly knocked at the door and called Aaron in an assumed voice. Sherritt opened the door, but no sooner did he show himself than Byrne shot him. He fell dead at his wife’s feet.

Dan and Joe made a great heap of wood at the end of the house, and set it on fire but the wood was damp, the fire went out, and the house was saved.

Ned Kelly and Steve Hart were already in the Glenrowan District, and the other two outlaws galloped off to join them. The public were shocked at the cold-blooded murder of a police agent, and prompt measures were taken to bring the murders to book.

Ned Kelly foresaw this.

Chapter 16.The Breaking up of the Gang.

Something has been said about Glenrowan in the early part of my story, but that was in the sixties. It is now 1880. Years have passed. They have brought many changes. The wagoners no longer whip, slash and swear to get their heavy wagons through the crabholes. The crack of the mail-coach man’s whip is forgotten. All these things are out of date and have been replaced by the railway. Many new settlers have come to the district, prosperous homes have sprung up in Glenrowan, Taminick and North Winton, and even the dreaded crabholes have been divided up into farms.

William Liddle and many others have passed away. The hotel and store are still standing, but have long since been closed and used as private houses. There is a state school on the other side of the Sydney Road. This place was not suitable for a railway station. It has been built about a mile nearer Wangaratta and a small township has grown around it. There are two hotels, a store, and a few private houses. On the north side, the hotel is kept by Mrs. Jones, and south of the line the hotel was kept by Paddy McDonnell. The railway station was fairly large one. A large quantity of wheat, oats and other farm produce is delivered there. The post office was at the railway station.

Now, let us look at the year 1922. The township is still small. There is only one hotel; it is a large one and is well conducted. After the Kelly capture a licence could never be got for Mrs. Jones’ hotel. It has been rebuilt twice and is now run as a wine shop. There are two stores - a baker’s and a butcher’s shop, a blacksmith’s shop, and a post office. The old store was pulled down, and the bricks were used to build a police station near the railway station. There is a Shire stone crushing that gives employment to a number of men, and for that reason there are more private houses. There is also a wood mill. The school was removed into the township over thirty year ago. There are three churches – Church of England, Roman Catholic Church, and Methodist Church. With all this evidence of man’s repentance it can be said that things have changed for the better.

The old people are gone; there are only a few alive who took part in the Kelly capture. At that time, people were talking about the dreadful murder. Arrangements have being made to despatch a special train load of police to Wangaratta, while Ned Kelly was in Glenrowan, working out his plans to entrap them. The Kelly Gang made their headquarters at Jones’ hotel.

It was an easy matter for the outlaws to round up the few people who lived in the township. Having done this, they told the stationmaster he would have to go with them and make a breach in the line. He said that he knew nothing about that kind of work and would be quite unable to do it. They then called upon the line repairers, and while Steve Hart stayed on guard, Ned forced the men to go at the point of the revolver, get the tools out of the shed, put them on a trolley and take them to a place about a quarter of a mile from the station. There they stood over the men and made them take up two lengths of rails.

The place was chosen for the villain as purpose; there was a curve in the line, a high embankment, a culvert and a deep ravine, into which the train would have fallen. The police took the precaution of running a pilot engine in front of the train, but even this would not save them. The curve was so sharp that they would not have seen the pilot go over. The gang were going to be there and shoot at those who were not killed in the wrecked train. If their plans had been carried out, it would have been the most dreadful outrage in the history of crime.

They work done and the trap set, the outlaws returned to the hotel to sleep in turns, while one watched. The prisoners could get no rest, being all packed in one room. Sunday morning was spent in rounding up more prisoners.

At the time of the Kelly scare, there was a policeman stationed at Glenrowan, but he lived in the old store. The outlaws went there and took him by surprise, handcuffed him, and sent him off to the hotel. His wife was in bed with a baby a few days old. Ned Kelly said it would not be safe to remove her. He turned back the wraps and looking at the child, he said: “You are a fine little chap. I might be worth a thousand pounds to you some day”. Then he went to the school and told the teacher, Thomas Curnow, to put his horse in the buggy and take his wife and child to the hotel. Mr. Curnow was a cripple; he had a short leg. He could walk but was very lame. He was a man of quick thought and great courage, and when he found how things were, he determined, if possible, to get the gang to believe that he was with them, which he succeeded in doing.

The afternoon and evening was spent in dancing to the music of an accordion. Curnow talked a lot with Ned Kelly, arguing with him over his plans, and flattering him and encouraging him to drink freely, and so far gained his point that Kelly told him to go home, but said: “Mind you, don’t dream too loud. As you do, you will be a dead man”.

When Curnow reached home, he took the horse out of the buggy and put the saddle and bridle on him. His wife asked: “What are you going to do?”

“Ride to Benalla”, he answered.

“If you do”, said she, “they will come and shoot me and the child”.

“If I don’t go”, replied he, “hundreds of lives will be lost. My duty is plain, and I must do it”. At that moment, he heard the train in the far distance. There was not a minute to lose. He ran into the house, got a piece of candle and a red cloth, and rushed to the railway line, a distance of about 150 yards. He reached there just in time to light his candle and stop the pilot engine. The train drew up, and Mr. Curnow cautioned them that the line was torn up on the other side of the station, and the Kelly Gang were at Jones’ hotel.

After giving this information, he refused to board the train, preferring to go back and defend his wife and child, and if needs be, die for them. They gave him a revolver, and he went back. If he had not stoped the train, it would have meant disaster to all on board. Thomas Curnow performed a deed for Australia, and for humanity, that few have ever equalled. He afterwards said that when he was on his way, he thought his last moments had come. He heard something coming to meet him. It must be one of the gang!! But it was a goat, and he was so panic-stricken that he nearly shot the poor beast.

Up at the hotel they heard the train coming, and the faces of the imprisoned people were transfixed with horror, as they thought of the crash that was to come in a few minutes - of the orgy of blood - but the train stopped. Ned Kelly sprang up with a curse upon his lips: “We have been betrayed! It is Curnow or Mrs. Bracken! I will go and shoot the lot!” But he did not have time. The train was coming full steam ahead and stoped at the station. The gang knew that the cat was out of the bag, but they would put up a fight.

The brakes had not stoped grinding, when twenty-five shots were fired from the hotel verandah. Most of them hit the train, but beyond breaking a few windows no damage was done. Then began a battle that lasted all night.

The tactics adopted by the police is a black spot on the police history of Australia. There was a washed out drain between the hotel and the station. In this drain a number of the police took

shelter. They had been ordered to keep up a constant fire on the hotel. There were forty innocent people imprisoned, consisting of men, women and children. Their position was desperate. They were all laying flat on the floor, some with people lying across their legs, other with someone on their arms.

The outlaws were trying to shoot the police from the windows. They had their armour on. Time after time people begged to let them go out, but the answer they got was: “You are safer here. Stay with us”.

Joe Byrne was standing in the bar drinking a glass on brandy, and as he rose it to his lips, he exclaimed: “Here’s too many happy years in the bush”! At this moment, he fell dead, hit with a bullet in the groin.

About this time, Mr Stanistreet crept out. A scary line of rifles were levelled at him. He threw up his hands calling out:” “Stationmaster!”

About this time Constable Bracken managed to escape from the hotel and informed the police officers that there were still thirty-eight civilians inside, but the firing from outside went on until the walls of the hotel were like a sieve. At last Dan Kelly announced: “You can go out if you like”. All made a rush, but were met by a hot rifle fire. Mrs. Reardon was carrying a baby. A bullet passed through its hood but luckily did not hurt the child.

John Jones, a young lad, the son of the landlady, was shot. He died the next day. His sister was also wounded and she died three months after.

Michael Reardon was shot in the chest; he is still carrying the bullet within an inch of his heart. The Government have been paying him a pound a week for forty-two years - a sum of two thousand one hundred and eighty-four pounds.

I knew a man named Martin Cherry, a repairer on the railway line. He was an Irishman of the good old school, a merry old soul. His Irish wit and humour made him good company, and he was always welcome wherever he went. Someone told him the Kellys were at Jones’ hotel, but he said: “I don’t believe it. I will go and see”. He went, but it cost him his life. Laying on the floor in a back room, he was suffering greatly. His limbs were cramped and numbed from laying on the hard boards. A man named Larkins was lying beside him. Hearing the crowd go out of the hotel and noting that there was a lull in the firing, Larkins proposed that they should go out. but Cherry said: “No, we are safer here, but my

poor old bones are sore, I would be more comfortable on something softer”. He got on the bed. No sooner had he done so, however, the firing started again, and a bullet passed through his body. Larkins tried to stanch the wound with a silk pocket handkerchief, but a bullet knocked off a bit of his ear, and he was compelled to leave Cherry to his fate. Escaping from the building, he made know the desperate condition of poor Cherry, but it made no difference.

The guns still thundered. The police sent to Melbourne for a cannon to blow the hotel down, but it only got as far as Seymour, when word was sent it would not be required.

The night was far spent. There were signs of the approaching day. Sergeant Steele, a railway guard, and a gentleman from the western district were behind some trees about a hundred yards from the hotel, where the police station now stands; they saw a man coming from the direction of the Sydney Road. He was wearing an overcoat and had something on his head, like a nail can. Thinking he was a madman, the men called out: “Go back, you fool, you will get shot”! The answer he gave was a volley of revolver bullets. He struck his breast with his hand and shouted: “Come-on you curs! I am bullet-proof”. They accepted the challenge and began to fire at him, but with no effect. Every time they struck him, he rang like a bell. Some reckoned: “It is no use; we are firing at the devil." But Sergeant Steele formed the opinion that the man was wearing armour. He put two duck shot cartridges in his gun and aimed at the strange person’s legs. He started to run and fell. When they reached him, he was hammering on the helmet with his revolver. They thought he was trying to shoot himself, but he afterwards told them it was a signal for his mates to come to his assistance.

When the police took him to the railway station, they found that the captive was Ned Kelly, the leader of that desperate gang, who had struck terror into the Australian police for three years. Now captured, he was quite calm, and when they administered first aid, he asked: “Why don’t you, fellows, use bullets - not duck shots?”

The day was now well advanced. People had come from all parts from the surrounding district. Special trains have been run, bringing large numbers of people from Wangaratta, Benalla, and Melbourne. The crowd was increasing as hour by hour went by.

The hotel still holds out, but they have only fired a few shots. Now the resistance has died out - all is still, no sound comes from the ill-fated house. It was known that Byrne was killed many hours

ago, and the leader was in the hands of the police at the railway station. There is only Dan Kelly and Steve Hart left. Why do not the officers order the men to search the building? Surely, they are not cowards? I think the reward was influencing them, and they did not want any of the men to distinguish themselves. A trouper dressed himself in Ned Kelly’s armour and prepared to go single-handed, but was told to obey orders.

The Kelly sisters, in the agony of tears, pleaded to be allowed to go and see their brother, but permission wars refused, and when they attempted to go on their own responsibility, they were brought back at the point of the rifle.

There was a priest present. His name was Father Gibney. I am told he is now a Bishop in West Australia. He was a brave man and offered to go to the hotel, and if Dan Kelly and Steve Hart were still alive, induce them to surrender, but his services were curtly refused. It appeared that the lion was dead, and they were afraid to go near it.

At last, the most insane order ever given came. “Fire the house!” What a cruel thing to do! Had they no regard for the life of that innocent man, Martin Cherry, who lay bleeding in a back room? Apart from this, what madness! No one knows what papers might have been found, or what criminals brought to justice only for the fire.

This was not like the action of a well organised police force. We would have only expected such a thing to be done by a band of rabble.

A trooper crept up to the building with a large bundle of straw; put a match to it, and the deed was done. Soon the red flames were shooting high in the direction of the bright blue sky. The crowd stood spellbound at such a want in act of destruction. Then a cry of horror went up: “Martin Cherry is in the house!” Oh, that dreadful fire! Even now he would be dying by inches. Nothing could save him now, but the cry reached a noble heart. Father Gibney, regardless of danger, rushed through fire and smoke. He stumbled over a body and carried it out.

A cheer died on the lips of the watchers and ended in a cry of despair. It was the body of Joe Byrne. The priest, still undaunted, handed over his grim burden and rushed back into the fire. People stood as if they were in a dream. Everyone held their breath. “The house would fall. The roof was caving in. No one could escape. The brave priest would be burnt to death”.

But no! There is someone coming out of the fire. It is Father Gibney with Martin Cherry in his arms. Their faces are burnt and blackened. Silence falls on the throng. They gather around. The priest, still holding Cherry in his arms, repeated a prayer. There is a gasp and a sigh, and Martin Cherry is dead - gone, where the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest.

When the fire burnt down, the bodies of the outlaws were found laying on the ruins of a bed-stead. They had taken the armour off; it was lying beside them. It is most likely they shot themselves to avoid capture. Of course, they were burnt beyond recognition, but there is not a shadow of a doubt as to their identity; they were Dan Kelly and Steve Hart.

There have been lots of wild stories told about their escape. Some unprincipled fellows at the South African war passed themselves off as the escaped highwaymen, and said the bodies found were those of two swagmen. Even as late as the last great war, the same story was told. There are always people who have such a love of notoriety, that they will tell any lies.

I once heard a man in a hotel in Melbourne enlarging on the deeds of the Kelly Gang. I could not help telling him he knew very little of what he was talking about. He boasted: “I should think I ought to know, when I am their brother Jim”. I was sure then, and told him I knew Jim Kelly. He was a man, and if he were there, he would wipe the floor with him. The hero made himself scarce.

The morning after the fire, the place presented a sight of utter desolation. The ruins were still smouldering. There were eight horses laying dead. One of the first things done by the police was to shoot every horse near the place in order to prevent anyone from escaping on them. Crowds of people were raking and scratching in the embers, searching for souvenirs. In the centre of a smouldering heap lay the cleared remains of Dave Mortimer’s greyhound dog. The faithful brut had followed his master into the hotel, and had shared the same fate as the men who had brought about the destruction of the place.

There was a rumble of wheels. A heavy wagonette came down the Sydney Road and passed through the township. In it were two coffins. The charred bodies were handed over to the relatives and taken to Mrs Kelly’s, and from there to the Greta Cemetery, where a rose bush marks the spot. The body of Joe Byrne was wrapped in a blanket and buried by the police in the Benalla Cemetery at midnight.

Chapter 17The Last of Ned Kelly.

The bushrangers had a long run, and no decent person could have any sympathy for them after the cold-blooded murder of the three policemen in the Wombat Ranges. Everyone feared what the end would be. No one thought they could be guilty of such a diabolical plot as that of wrecking the train, and all honest people looked upon the crime with intense loathing. The crime may be some excuse for the police, but to say the least, their head as well as their nerve, and the saddest thing of all is that it cost the lives of three innocent people. Who would think that the descendants of such men would be amongst the men who stormed Voussoirs, or stood like a wall of steel before Amiens, and hurled the Germans back again until they had to retire, bleeding, broken and beaten.

I am not condemning all of the police. A whole company may be lost by the funking of a few of their number, or they may fail through the mistakes of their officers. They must obey orders. I have no doubt, that there were many men at Glenrowan who would have been brave enough to win the V.C., if opportunity had come their way.

Mrs Jones was in a dreadful way. She blamed the police for all her trouble. It was pitiful to see her when the news of her son’s death was brought to her. She looked at the ruins of her home, wrung her hands and sobbed as though her heart would break. It was true the government would compensate her for the loss of her property, but nothing could give her back her child. In her raving she denounced the police, calling them everything that was bad, but no one held her responsible for what she said, because she was distracted with grief.

Ned Kelly was taken to Melbourne and placed in the gaol hospital. Soon he recovered from his wounds, only being caused by duck shots. Sometimes he talked freely, but had no sense or shame or remorse for what he had done. His grievance was against the police; he felt he had been treated unjustly and accused of things he was not guilty of. The one regret he expressed was the shooting of Sergeant Kennedy. He said the Sergeant was a brave man and fought fairly. He was laying badly wounded and begged Ned to spare his life for the sake of his wife and little children. He was in great pain, but the gang could do nothing for him. To leave him would have been worse than to shoot him, so they chose the latter. They had to do it when the wounded man was not looking. When Ned was asked if they tortured him, he indignantly denied it, and said if the body had been tampered with, it had not been done by the Kellys.

On Sunday evening at Glenrowan, when his tongue was loosen by drink, he talked freely and told about a good many of their experiences, declaring that they would be able to defy the law as long as they liked. From words dropped it was evident that the outlaws thought that if they succeeded in wrecking the train, everyone would rush to Glenrowan; Benalla would be left without police protection and the gang could ride down and rob the three banks. Ned did not say exactly that they were going to do it, but expressed the opinion that it could be done. He said they were sick and tired of being hunted from place to place, and did not care much how things went. However, it was a blessing that the gang was broken up, and the bushranging of the back country of Australia was at an end for all time.

Ned Kelly was brought from Melbourne by special train several times to appear before the court at Beechworth. It has been said that when the train drew near the Strathbogie Ranges, he would look out and say to himself: “There they are. Will I ever be there again?” At times he would sing songs and be in wonderfully good spirits, defiant to the last.

It was a very great pity, that one with such a powerful brain should have turned his energy to such a brutal purpose. He baffled the best skills that could be brought against him both in this state and New South Wales, and by the way he carried out his plans, proved himself to be a genius of no mean order. Had he placed his powers in the right direction, he could have been a power for good instead of evil. It proves the truth of the old proverb “evil communication corrupts good manners”.

It was his association with Power, the bushranger, that first led him to tread the path of folly. If he had lived at the time of the Great War, instead of dying the death of a felon on the gallows, his memory covered with disgrace. He may have fallen on the battlefields of the Empire, covered with glory, or won the V.C., and returned to Australia, loved and admired by a grateful public.

Subsequent events in the family will prove what I am stating to be true. I am not saying this to make excuses in any way, and I have no sympathy with those who break the law. The Thorns and the Briars had overgrown Ned’s heart, and made him a beast of prey.

Ned Kelly stood his trial in Melbourne before Judge Barry. He was found guilty and sentenced to death. When asked by His Honour if he had anything to say, why sentence of death should not be passed upon him, all he said was: “I will go a little further

than that and say I will see you there, where I go”. It was strange he should say this. The judge died within three months after Kelly was hanged.

While waiting for his execution he seemed quite cheerful. It has been said that when he was asked what he would have for his last meal, he said: “Roast lamb, green peas, and a bottle of Claret”. A man under sentence of death is given anything he likes to ask for. It is fulfilling the words of the good old book: “Give strong drink to him, who is ready to perish”. Ned is said to have smoked his pipe before walking with a firm step onto the scaffold. When asked if he had anything to say, he said: “Oh, well. Such is life”. The bolt was drawn. The drop fell. Death was instantaneous. So died the last of the Kelly Gang.

On the night after the execution, there was a large sideshow

tent pitched on a vacant allotment somewhere in Melbourne. On a box stood a magician, shouting at the top of his voice: “Come this way! Come this way and see the mother and sisters of Ned Kelly, who was hanged this morning. They are now on the inside. Pass right in for the small sum of one shilling”. In the tent sat an elderly woman and two girls. The public came in hundreds; so strong was the morbid curiosity, that it fairly rained shillings. The organisers of the show made so much money that they repeated the farce in other places, even going into New South Wales. At Parramatta they showed “Ned Kelly’s grey mare”, and it turned out that they had bought the horse from a farmer a few miles out of the town. People are very foolish to be taken in this way.

A mother and sisters would not resort to such a mean way of making money, even if they were starving.

Chapter 18.A Mother’s Sorrows.

Time was passing. Three years had elapsed since the gang had been broken up. We have all heard the story of King Richard the First, the mighty man of war. So great was his strength, that he wielded a battle-axe of enormous weight, and he was so dreaded by his enemies, that his fame lived for hundreds of years. If a horse shied, the rider would say: “Dost thou think King Richard is in that bush? And for years, some foolish mothers would say to their children: “If you do not be good, Ned Kelly will get you!”

Prejudice is hard to kill. The world is cruel, selfish and unkind. We are in danger of making those suffer, who least deserve to be condemned.

A thrashing machine was working at a farm on the creek. All was hurry and rush. Men toiled in the heat. The sheaves were pitched from the stacks to the hand-cutters and passed on to the feeder. The straw rolled up the elevators. Chaffey and Cavey were hard at work. A number of men were busy filling, sewing and stacking bags of wheat.

At a little distance under the shade of a big gum tree, there are five or six farmers’ daughters waiting with the lunch. We hear their merry laughter and jokes about the boys. A rider is seen to be coming down the road; it proves to be a woman. She is mounted on a fine upstanding bay horse and sits gracefully on side-saddle. She is wearing a black riding habit a white blouse, and a black hat. It can at once be seen that she is an accomplished horsewoman, rather past middle age, but still very good looking. Her face is pleasant, but her brow is furrowed with sorrow.

She approached the owner of the thrashing machine and said: “My name is Mrs. Kelly. I have three wheat stacks. Will you come and trash them?” When he assured her he would be pleased to do so, she was loud in her thanks. She admitted she had been almost afraid to come and ask him, but he replied: “Your money is as good as anybody’s. You are honest, and will pay for the work”.

She nodded. “Oh, yes! You can be sure of your money. You do not seem to understand what the trouble is. I am the mother of outlaws, who died for their crimes. People look down on us and avoid us”.

Being a fair-minded man, he answered: “I think that is a cruel thing for them to do. Your sons were guilty of a most dreadful crime. They have been made to pay the extreme penalty of the law.

They are dead, and the matter should be allowed to rest; you should not be made to suffer on their account”.

These few straightforward words, spoken in a kindly spirit, sank deeply into her breast, and she never forgot them.

How dreadfully cruel it was for this poor woman to feel that she carried the brand of Cain! How often it has been said: “Am I my brother’s keeper?” To a very great extent, we are. Our actions influence others. If we are guilty of things that are mean and selfish, our friends are made to suffer. It is our duty to look for the best, not the worst, in our fellow men. We often only see the Thorns and the Briars and overlook the roses in the better side of life.

The thrashing at Kellys’ was something pleasant to remember. The conduct of the family was all that could be desired. The woman’s heart responded to the kindness extended to her.

Sitting under a big willow tree in the warm summer evening with Kate and Grace at her feet, she told the story of the lawless career of her sons from her point of view.

While she made no excuse for them, she said it was all brought about through the row in the house, when, in the heat of temper she struck Fitzpatrick over the head with the fire-shovel, and the fatal mistake was made, when they put her in prison. If she had been at home, she would have been able to save her sons from being guilty of murder and would have freely given her life’s blood to save them from a career of crime.

The scorn and contempt that was shown the Kelly family by some people was hard to bear. When she spoke about the side-shows that had gone about the country, her eyes filled with tears; what dreadful things people could do for money! They had no mercy or pity for the feelings of those who were overtaken by misfortune.

“Oh, that dreadful night! How can I ever forget it? While I was in an agony of grief, with my heart broken, people were trying to sink me lower in the eyes of the world”.

So the evening went before they knew it. The hour of midnight had arrived, and the listener went to his bed on a bundle of straw under the open canopy of heaven. The stars twinkled. There was a red glow in the sky, a sign that another hot day was not far away. Down in the old creek, the frogs croaked. There was the hoot of an owl, and then came the cry of a night hawk, but the

stranger did not hear them. He was deep in thought how strange it was that he should meet the woman in his way! He was thinking about the story and turning it over in his mind. The woman that he had heard so much about was intensely human, with all the love of a mother’s heart. She may have had her faults, but beyond all doubt, there was a lot of good in her.

A good name easily lost but very hard to regain. We sometimes bring upon ourselves the disrespect of our fellows by our own folly.

This can be well said about Mrs Kelly. She was left a widow when her family were young. A few years before the outbreak of the gang, she married again. Her second husband was a drover, and he was often away. There were no near neighbours, and the husband was hardly ever seen about the place. People called her “Mrs Kelly” and she let them continue to do so, and she neglected to make her marriage public. There was a boy and two girls in the second family. Not knowing the truth, people regarded her as an immoral woman.

I am quite sure of my ground. She was married in Benalla by a Protestant minister. I knew him well; he is since dead. I also know one of the witnesses who is still alive.

The husband disappeared about the time of the outbreak, and it was reported that he was drowned while he was attempting to ford the Upper Murray.

When the sons got into disgrace, the mother felt that it would be cowardly to forsake the name, and the family took the same view. Her son, John Kelly, as he was known, left the country some years ago. He became a moving picture artist. He married an actress and they are both employed on the movies in America.

The two youngest girls are both married.

Old Mrs. Kelly is still alive and in her ninety-fourth year. This is evidence that in some cases trouble will not kill. She is a wonderful old woman. At the age of eighty-eight she walked three miles to visit a sick neighbour. Her sight is wonderfully good. The same can be said of her memory. It would be better for her if it was not. The state of forgetfulness will come when she goes to the grave.

Chapter 19.A Kind Son.

I have felt somewhat backward in writing this story, but I know the facts so well and there have been so many statements made, and so much written that is far from truth. The worst side has always been put to the public. I want to show both sides. I am not referring to the gang, but to those who are left. Criminals are made, not born, and it is not to be said that because a man’s brothers are bad, he will be also.

Jim Kelly was a brother of Ned and Dan. The statement has been made that if he had not been away in another state, he would have joined the gang.

Now, I know for a fact that he was home after his brothers were out, for I saw him in Benalla and talked to him. He went to New South Wales shortly afterwards, I believe, to get away from them. He left for the Back Blocks and got work on a station. In these faraway places, the men neither feared God or man.

Sundays were spent by the young fellows in kangaroo hunting and any other sport they could get. The Kellys were all fine horsemen and delighted in buckjumping.

There was a common a few miles from the station with stockyards, where people could yard their stock. The lads used to go there on Sundays and yard some of the young horses off the common. They would catch the wildest of them, and Kelly would ride them to the delight of the onlookers.

Someone informed on them. The police set a watch and caught Jim Kelly on the horse. He was arrested and charged with horse-stealing and alternately with illegally using. He stood his trial and was acquitted of horse-stealing, but convicted of illegally using.

When he was brought up for sentence, the judge said: “Before dealing with your case, I want to ask you if you are any relation to the Kellys, the outlaws, at present at large in Victoria?” Then he made a very foolish speech.

Jim replied: “Yes, they are my brothers, and I am not ashamed of it”.

“Well”, said His Honour, “I will see that you do not join them. You are sentenced to five years hard labour in the Parramatta Gaol”.

For what could be regarded as a boyish prank, the sentence was a very harsh one. But perhaps it was the best thing that ever happened to Jim. All prisoners who served five years had the opportunity of learning a trade, and he learnt boot-making. When he came out, the gang were broken up, and he had a trade.

He lived with his mother on the creek and worked at his trade. After some years, they sold the place and he started a shop in Winton. It was on the main road, and he got as much work as he could do, but he longed for the old creek, the hills, the horses, cattle and sheep. By hard work, he saved enough to take up six hundred and forty acres at the foot of Kellys’ Gap, where he made a home for himself and his mother.

They say: “To know a man, you must live near him”. There is not a neighbour who would hear a bad word said about Jim Kelly. It is therefore surprising to listen to the stories told by people who are ignorant of the facts. A friend of mine was travelling on a train, when he heard a man telling a story about the Kellys, and he was annoyed to hear him say that Jim Kelly still took his wild fits, and would gallop through the streets of Glenrowan, cracking a stockwhip and firing a revolver, and the people would run into their houses in dread of their lives. My friend was indignant and denied the statement with a great amount of warmth, telling the man that Jim Kelly was a strictly sober man, and one of the best behaved men that came into the town.

Jim is a most kind-hearted fellow. If he was going along the road and saw a man stuck, he would take off his coat and help him, even if he had never seen the man before. If there was sickness or death in the neighbourhood, he would be the first to go and ask: “What can I do for you? How can I help you?” The task imposed on him was never too heavy or too hard. He would be with them day and night, as long as they needed his help.

He was always very fond of horses and dogs. It has been said he never had a bad dog; some were better than others. When he started work on the creek nearly forty years ago, he made a vow never to get into trouble again, and I believe he has done his best to keep to it.

There are many things in his nature that are truly noble, but the family had got a bad name and he had to suffer for it, although it was not his fault. His name was Kelly, and there was an intense

hatred of the name. Can you wonder at him resenting it? They were made a scapegoat by everyone. There were still people, who were dishonest, and cattle have been stolen, and I know some had been bad enough to do it in a way that would cast suspicion on Jim. Twice he has been charged with cattle stealing, and in both cases he has been able to prove he was not guilty. The hardest case of all was when a woman claimed one of his horses. She said she lost it when it was a foal, and swore information against Jim Kelly. He was brought before the Police Court and committed for trial. He was able to bring neighbours to prove that he bred the horse. Some of the neighbours were present when the foal was born. The evidence was so conclusive, that the judge told him, he walked out of the court without a stain on his character. That was a poor satisfaction, considering that it cost him fifty pounds to save himself from being jailed for his own horse.

I must leave him for the present, to say something about his sisters, Kate and Grace. They were fine looking girls. Grace got married in the district, where she is still living. She is the mother of a fine family of sons, who are hardworking young men and are doing well.

Kate left Victoria and went away to earn her own living. Rumour had it that she was getting a large salary as a barmaid to draw custom. There was no truth in the story. She was never a barmaid; she was too high-spirited to trade on her identity. She would prefer to keep silence, when the unhappy past was concerned.

Somewhere in New South Wales she fell in love, got married, and settled in the Riverina. For a time all went well; she had two girls and a boy. While the boy was still a baby, Kate was taken ill, and died. The news was broken to Jim and the old lady, and they determined to adopt the children.

One of our respected state members spent the greater part of his boyhood on the old creek within two miles of Kellys and, of course, knew them well. Many years ago he settled in the Murray District. He said he was in Wodonga one day, and he saw a man driving a hooded buggy and paired up the street. The man drew into the curb, sprang out of the trap, and when he looked up, he exclaimed: “Why, it is my old friend, Harry!”

“My old friend Jim!” They both expressed the pleasure at meeting. It seemed like old times over again, but Jim’s face was sad and his eyes downcast.

“What brings you up here?” Jim was asked, but he was unable to speak for a while, overcome with emotion. “Sad business. Very sad business. Kate is dead. I am going over for the children”. He shook his head, and at last he composed himself.

“It will mean a six hundred miles drive for me, but I must have them” and he added: “By the help of God, while Jim Kelly has a pair of hands to work with, Kate’s children shall never want! I will feed and clothe them, send them to school, and bring them up as well as I can”.

And Jim Kelly was true to his word. Imagine the big, burly fellow holding the little baby on a pillow on his knee, driving mile after mile. He handled this baby as tenderly as a woman. He fed it wrapped it up from the cold, and slept with it, getting up every hour to attend to its comfort. It was his sister’s child, and he would see that it was not neglected.

The little girls were bigger, and able to sit up in the buggy themselves. Sometimes the grew weary with the long journey, then Uncle Jim would talk to them, give them cake or biscuits and promise to buy them lollies when he came to the store – which he never failed to do. They must be amused and have the best he could give them. They were Kate’s children – oh, how he loved Kate’s children!

So day after day passed and Jim grew more fond of them every day. The little girls would soon be big enough to learn to ride. He would get them a pony and they should ride to school. They would have to be made fine horsewomen like their mother. And when the boy grew big enough, he should have a pony too. Then Jim looked at his little hands and feet and thought: “Ah, the little mite! I wonder - will he ever be big enough to ride a horse?”

The days went by; at last he was in sight of the old gap, and soon handed the baby into his mother’s arms with the words: “We must do our best for them, Mother”.

“Yes, that we will”, said the old lady, and she got busy right away. Soon baby’s clothes were changed. She had given him his supper, and then she set to work, going over the children’s clothes, seeing what they had got. She would have to go into the town and buy some material, so that she could make them some dresses and some warm underclothing, and they must have strong boots, so that they would not get their feet damp.

When Jim saw how much his mother found to do, he wondered how he had managed with them for that three hundred

miles’ drive. A woman is always better with children than a man - and a bachelor - at that. The mother took charge of the children, and Jim amused himself with them. His greatest pleasure of all was teaching the girls to ride, but they inherited their mother’s skill and did not need much teaching. Soon they were able to get on the pony and go down the paddock and bring up the cows. Jim was never done praising them, but one of his greatest pleasures was, when he was coming home from work in the evening and the two little girls would run and meet him, and each one would take his hand.

Then the time came when he took them to school for the first time. There was now someone else to come and meet him. The little boy would toddle out and hold out his little hand to come to uncle.

When he was big enough, he had his first lesson on horseback. What a little fellow he was! His legs did not reach halfway down the horse’s sides, yet he was not frightened. He wanted to get on again.

Chapter 20.Life is But a Dream.

How time flies! It has truly been said: “Life is but a space span”. In the battle of life we are tossed from place to place, sometimes carried on by the sea of prosperity, but held back by the waves of adversity. In the days of happy childhood we look forward to the time when we will be grown up. In youth we dream of success of love and matrimony. In middle life we pride ourselves in our strength. Our time is taken up with the realities of life. In old age and failing strength, when our arm has lost its power and our step its fleetness, we look back over our past life and alas! - Too often we see wasted hours and neglected opportunities, and viewing our many failures, we sigh for what might have been, and find we have grown old before we knew it.

How often have we heard those words: “Man, that is born of a woman, hath but a short time to live. He cometh forth like a flower. He flee-eth like a shadow and continue-eth not.” The children of today are the men and women of tomorrow. We have to do our best to lead them in the right way.

In the last chapter, the children were going to school. Now they are grown up. The grandmother is a very old woman. The uncle’s hair and beard is thickly streaked with grey. The baby is a big man and able to wear his uncle’s riding boots. He has become an expert horseman, and loved to gallop over the hills. He had been taught to work, and was a great help to his uncle in many ways.

Above all, he had been taught to love his country. It is deeds, not words that had built up the Empire and made it the most mighty nation under the sun. This young fellow was to be a man of deeds in a great cause.

The girls have grown in strength and intelligence. They have blossomed into womanhood, and have a fair share of their mother’s good looks. The uncle thinks as much of them as ever and is proud to introduce them to his friends as Kate’s children. Things are continually changing, and another stage in their lives is approaching, when they would feel the first throb of love - that desire that burns in every true woman’s heart for a home of her own with the man she loves. Notwithstanding the relationship to a family, who carried the name that brought back memories of a black past, that in the interest of those who were not then born, should be forgotten, their good looks and kindly nature brought them admirers. Many young men approached them. There are a great number of callers at the little house in the hills. One wants to

enquire where he can get a good saddle horse, another is in want of a good sheep-dog, while yet another had lost some cattle and thought they might have come that way - had they seen anything of them? Others had various reasons for calling, but all were “looking for information”.

The unsuspecting old uncle did not dream what their real motive was, and in a good-hearted way he would start to answer their questions, often at a much greater length than the young men wished. They would be casting sheep-eyes in the direction of the girls, while Uncle Jim would be advising which was the best breed of horses, or telling them about what a wonderful horse this old grey, he had years ago, really was; he could yard the wildest of cattle with him. The old fellow knew as much as a man, but he died up in the gully, and Jim Kelly had buried him at the foot of a bug wattle tree.

Youngers would be a good place to go, they always had a lot, and their horses were a good class. He had heard Bill Tanner had some horses for sale. Did he know much about horses? If he did not, Tom Lloyd would go and pick one out for the interested visitor.

About dogs - Jim was a good judge of dogs and had had some wonderfully fine ones. Old Lass, the mother of Rover, was just a marvel. She would bring the sheep from the far end of the paddock. There was nothing she could not do with sheep, and she had never been beaten in the sheep-dog trials at the shows. “Come here Rover!” A black dog with a white ring around his neck rubbed himself against his master’s leg. “Now, that is a good dog! He is very much like his mother both in looks and ways. I know where I could get you a pup if you would care to have one”.

To the man who was looking for cattle, Jim would say: “There have been none around this way lately, but I saw about twenty yesterday on the Glenrowan Road near Tindles. If you go there at once, you will most likely find they are yours”.

To the other interviewers he gave full information; but as water finds its level, preference was shown by the girls and the visitors dwindled down to two. Things were now in a fair way of working.

The uncle had never had a love affair. There were so many things to take up his time and thought. Had it been otherwise, he would have known the joys of married life, but he had devoted his life to his aged mother and his dead sister’s children. He dismissed all thought of settling in life from his mind. That made him

somewhat dull regarding love affairs, but it dawned upon him that the young men had not come to see him, but his sister’s daughters, and he made up his mind not to stand in the way of the happiness of Kate’s children. They had chosen honest, hardworking men, and he made them welcome in his house.

The path of love ran smoothly. Weeks came and went. The young couples would go out on horseback on a Sunday afternoon. Often they would find their way to the Winton lake and sit on the lookout, watching the ripple of the water and the black swans swimming proudly past. Nature was at peace. Life was a happy dream, bringing them nothing but pleasant thoughts of the joys that were to follow. Then the sun would sink behind Lawford’s Hill, and they would turn homeward in all the vigour of youth.

One Sunday afternoon, they had gone for a walk in the hills. It was spring once more. The wild flowers had come again, the wattles were in bloom, the sarsaparilla climbed up the saplings and hung from them in beautiful purple garlands.

They sat down on a log at the top of a hill and feasted they eyes on the glorious view. A rabbit ran past, chased by a hawk. The young man began to speak. The old, old story was trembling on his lips. The girl was holding a bunch of wild flowers in her hand, and her eyes were fixed on Mount Bogong with its white mantle of snow. A mild-eyed steer stood watching them, as their lips met and the engagement was sealed by a kiss.

Shortly afterwards there was a great joy in the Kelly home. It was the wedding breakfast of Kate’s eldest daughter. The priest had said the words that had joined the young couple before God and Man in the honourable state of Holy Matrimony.

Her sister soon followed in the same path - and so ended another stage of life’s dream.

Chapter 21The Call to Duty.

Things went on in much the same way in the humble home near the Gap. Now that the girls were gone, Jim Kelly had the care of his aged mother. Uncle and nephew were drawn more closely to each other.

War had broken out between Germany and Russia. Then came the news that Germany had declared war against France and had invaded Belgium. England was drawn into the fight, and soon the foundation of the world was shaken by the most dreadful war in history.

The German guns thundered and carried weight with everything before them. At the battle of Mons, the Allies were driven back. The Germans went on in their mad rush, leaving behind them ruins and desolation.

Then we heard stories of murder, of the outrage of women and the maiming of little children. The world was in great danger from a monster that threatened to devour it. If they were not stoped, life and property would not be safe. The fate of the women and children of all overseas dominions would be the same as the fate of the women and children of France and Belgium.

The call went across the sea and tens of thousands flocked together in the name of the Royal standard from all parts of the British dominions. We are proud that Australia sent the first volunteer army the world ever saw.

It was the supreme test of manhood between those who served, and the conscientious objectors who shirked. They called war legalised murder. To some extent I admit that it is, but if the expression may be used, we are all “beasts of prey”. We depend on each other and have to defend our rights. This state of things will continue until the swords are beaten into ploughs and shears, shears and the spears into pruning hooks.

I would not condemn a man because he did not go to the war. There may have been many things to prevent him, but the fit man without ties, who refused to go for want of courage or lack of loyalty, is unworthy of the name of an Australian. If a man is unwilling to defend his country, he has no right to claim its protection.

The men who enlisted gave their lives for the Empire just the same as those who went. It was not their fault that they were

rejected. They had done all they could, and they should be respected.

We go to the top of a hill overlooking Greta. We see four men in conversation. One is a tall man with a grey beard. He is not many years short of sixty. The other three are in the uniform of the A.I.F. They are on final leave from the Broadmeadows Camp.

Let me introduce them to you: That fine strapping young fellow is Fred Foster, the baby that his uncle carried on a pillow on his knee when he brought the children from New South Wales. The two other men are his brother- in- laws. The old man is Jim Kelly.

They have been having a serious talk. Uncle Jim has been telling them some facts about the unhappy past. Fred’s face is set and resolute, and he has promised: “Uncle, I am going to win back a good name. I will dare death. I will fight for my country and the honour of the family”.

The old man said: “Well spoken, lad! You show a true spirit of a Kelly”. Then they stood in silence and gazed over the fair scene – the snow-capped towering mountains, the fertile valleys, and the fields of waving corn. This was what the men were going to fight for – the home of their childhood, and the safety of women and little children. Could anything show the true man to a better advantage?

Slowly they retraced their steps to the house. The two husbands were returning to camp that evening, but Foster had a few more days to spend with his people. How many have known the pain of partings of this kind! It seemed as if they were going to their grave. Yet in all of it, there was a humble pride that they were going to do their duty. When uncle and nephew grasped each other’s hands for the last time, they stood for a long time looking into each other’s faces. Then the young man said: “I wish you were going with me, Uncle”.

“Not more than I have wished it myself”, replied Uncle Jim. “It is only weight of years that prevents me, and ever now, as old a man as I am, I would go, if they would take me”.

“Never mind - I am going to make good, and if the Germans get me, I will not be taken alive”, Fred assured his uncle.

There was a short whistle and the train rushed into the station. The flag is waved. The train starts …… and Fred Foster is gone.

The old man stood on the platform and watched the train until it looked like a little black speck - and it was gone.

Chapter 22Off to the Middle East.

In camp there were men from all parts of Australia – men of every trade and every profession, farmers from the country, stockmen from the backblocks, clerks from banks, students, lawyers, and teachers, all fired with the same object – the honour of King and Motherland, and the safety of the nation. Some have roughed it, other have lived in the lap of luxury, But in camps, all were on the same footing – they had to sleep on hard beds, and were subjected to hard discipline and hard training.

Although they knew what they had to face, they grew tired of camp and longed to be sent to the front. They were men of great courage and iron will. When they were ordered to leave camp, for the transports, they were pleased.

The Australian soldier is well known for being always ready for anything. They were marched on to the boats. When they were all on board, the barrier was removed, and the crowd were allowed on the pier.

The farewells are always sad and touching. There were hundreds of streamers, held by the men on the boats and their friends on the shore. The waiting was very trying, but at last the gangways were taken up. The engines began to throb, the propellers revolved, and slowly, gently, the boat was gliding from the shore. The crowd was silent, only for the sobs of grief-stricken relatives. Then, the soldiers on board sent up a mighty cheer. People on shore took it up, and when they looked at the great liners with the soldiers thronging their decks, everybody felt how proud Australia was of their sons.

They went out on the mighty deep, guarded by an escort of men of war, and ploughed through the sea on their way to help the Motherland. Amongst that band of noble heroes stood young Foster, Kate Kelly’s son. He was going to wipe out the strain. Yes! He had the fighting spirit of a patriot, and was determined to use his powers for the good of his country.

He had all the experience of the men, who had taken their first long voyage, and not the least trying of them was sea sickness. But an Australian is always noted for looking on the best side of everything! So the soldiers made fun of their own sufferings, and cheerfully submitted to discipline.

The days went by until the voyage became tiresome, and they were glad to disembark at Egypt, where they were placed in a

camp at Cairo. Then came more training under the burning sun, and in time they came in contact with the Turks and had their first taste of war. However, the real fighting was yet to come.

Then came the forced marches across the burning sands of the desert. The heat, the dust, the dirt and flies, the burning thirst! When the great dust-storms overtook them, many a man fell, to rise no more. Still, there was something more to be dreaded, than the stories of the desert or the thunder of the enemy’s cannon - the sins of that wicked city – Cairo.

It was a calamity that this place should have been made the headquarters of the troops, with its crime, sin, and immorality; its snares and its pitfalls to entrap the unwary; its glitter and glare, its gay life, where women, dressed in the hight of fashion, tempted men to destruction; its native quarters with their seating beds of infamy – all united to drag men down, to ruin them through the agency of women and wine. Many of the Australians from the country, ignorant of the sins of big cities, became an easy prey for the vultures that hovered around them. Too soon they found themselves ruined in body and soul, to be sent back to Australia as medically unfit, and eventually to die a dishonoured death, or live to carry a loathsome disease and become a reproach to themselves, and a menace to society.

While regretting that so many young soldiers fell victim to the dreadful scourge of humanity, we are proud that of the tens of thousands of men who were in Egypt, only very small percentages were victims to the dreadful vice.

Young Foster was one of the best. It was not in his nature to be immoral. Whatever could be said about his family, they could not be accused of immorality. Even the dreaded leader of the desperate band of highwaymen was always so gallant in the presence of females, that he was called by many “the gentleman bushranger”.

Chapter 23On the Battlefields of the Empire.

The troops were growing restless. They were tired of Egypt, tired of the burning sands and most of all, tired of Cairo. For some days there was a feeling in all ranks that there was going to be something doing. The order to prepare to embark for Gallipoli came. It was received with great rejoicing. The soldiers were eager for the fight.

It was the first opportunity they had of showing what they could do, and they did it well. On that 25th day of April, they wrote the name of Australia on the scroll of fame in letters of blood. Who has not read with pride of the charge of the Light Brigade? Our hearts have thrilled when we have thought of the bravery of those noble men who obeyed orders, although they knew someone had blundered.

Yet compared with the Gallipoli landing, it sinks into insignificance. I need not enlarge on the dreadful scenes of blood and slaughter of the undaunted courage of the Australians in their attack. Artillery and machine guns opened fire on them; they fell by thousand. Still they came on like the waves of the sea until they reached the land and stormed the heights - but at what a price!

It can be said, as it was of the charge of the six hundred, surely someone had blundered, but that did not in any way lessen the glory of the achievement. Artists will paint, poets will sing, and authors will write of the wonderful deeds, and the name of the ANZAC will live forever.

From Gallipoli, we let our thoughts take us to France – that place where the Germans had been making such headway and spreading ruins and destructions to such an extent, that it had been called “bleeding France”. The horror and suffering of the French people can never be told.

I do not wish to give more credit than is due to the Australians, even if it would be possible. The British soldier has always been known as a brave and fair fighter, and it is from this stock, that the people of the overseas dominions have sprung. We are the same people, our greatness has been brought about through our being British, but the conditions have been different.

The open free life has made the Australian more independent. Not only can he be lead, but he can be a leader. In cases where the officers have all been cut down, again and again, a private has stepped out, led his comrades on, and saved the situation.

The French soon found the fighting strength of our boys and regarded them as the saviours of France. Young Foster was one of these men. His skill in the Australian bush made him useful in raiding on no-man’s- land. He fought in many fierce engagements and performed acts of great bravery and had numbers of hair’s breadth escapes.

Then would come the time for his unit to go out to rest. Letters would come from Australia, and many hearts would be softened with sweet thoughts of home and mother. Foster’s letters brought news from the Gap, and he thought of the time when he was carefree; when he sat in the little school in Greta West, of the time when he was a friendless child, of the benevolence of his uncle, and of the tender care of his old grandmother. His face would become more resolute, for had he not come here to make good to redeem the name of his people? He became more determined that - whether he lived or died - he would do his duty, and again he would move with his comrades into the fight. For a long time they had been hard pressed, and many of Australia’s noble sons had gone west, but the tide was turning, and soon they hoped to inflict a crashing blow on the hated enemy.

They were to storm Vouziers, and were standing too for the hop over. Some were thoughtful and serious, others were laughing and joking, but none were afraid. Fear was unknown to such men. The officers were staying with their watches.

Young Foster took a firmer grip of his rifle. Then came the sharp word of command: “Charge!” - and all along the line, a great human wave swept over the top, supported by their artillery fire. The Germans poured into them artillery, machine gun and rifle fire. Officers and men fell thick and fast, but still on they rush “to Victory, to Glory, or the Grave!”

Not all the powers of death or hell could keep these men back. Shouting and cheering, they rushed forward; then came the clash of arms - The fearful bayonet thrusts. The enemy crumpled up, broke and fled, like some venomous viper that had been beaten off, he crawled away into what shelter he could find. The victorious troops settled themselves in his trenches and turned his own guns on him, but, oh, what dreadful costs this victory was gained!

The saddest thing in war is to go over a field after the battle. The cries and groans of the wounded and dying are heartrending. From the starting point to the objective is one great sieve of suffering and death. The ground is torn up with bursting shells, there are wrecked guns and dead horses. The air is still full of poisonous gas, increasing the sufferings of the dying, and hanging over the field like a black pall of death.

Lying with the fallen is young Foster. Doctors are going over the field. First aid men are hard at work, giving temporary relief to the sufferers. Stretcher bearers are busy carrying the wounded off the field to the clearing station. A god chaplain is moving about amongst the wounded. He speaks words of comfort and encouragement to the dying men, telling them of a living Christ, of a land that is fairer than day. So in the knowledge of God’s eternal love many a brave soldier enters into rest.

Now he kneels beside a dying man. He is seen to take out his pocket book and write a last message to a mother, who somewhere in Australia is hoping and praying for the son that can never return.

A fine looking young man is lying with his head on a stone. His life’s blood is fast ebbing away from a dreadful wound in the chest. His eyes are closed. The pallor of death is in his face. Seeing that he was breathing, the Chaplain knelt beside him and took his hand. The man’s eyes opened and he whispered: “The pillow is hard, Granny. Put your hand under my head.” Tenderly the good man complied with his request. “That is better now. I think I will go to sleep. How dark it is, and it is so cold. Kiss me, Granny, before I go.” And the Chaplain kissed him.

The death dew was on his lips, and the brave soldier had gone west. The Chaplain did not know who he was. He might have been rich or poor. He might have been a city gentleman who rode in his motor car. He might have been a stockman from outback. He might have been born and reared in a settler’s hut, or ambled in the slums, or a palatial mansion in some great city. He was one of that great throng of mortals, who had given their lives on the altar of the Empire, A sacrifice for right against might, and he had gone to the reward of those who are found on the path of duty. He is worthy to be remembered for all time.

Young Foster died on the battlefields of France, fighting shoulder to shoulder with the best and bravest men that ever breathed the free air of fair Australia. Can anyone tell me they have not made good? No, they can not. Foster’s death is so crowned with honour as one of that sixty thousand men, who made a sacrifice that was only surpassed by the world’s Redeamer, who died for all mankind on the cross at Calvary.

Fred Foster’s and his dead comrades’ names are surrounded with a halo of glory. They died so that we might live. How many hearts are torn and bleeding? How many homes are filled with sorrow, and will never be the same because of the ravages of war?

How many of us there are, who would, if we could, put back the clock of time and have things as they were?

I can speak from my heart for my son who has been also laid to rest with Foster somewhere in France, in a grave I never shall see. It is more than a horrid nightmare, but it is something that we have to face. We cannot undo the past, but it is in our power to improve the present.

The names of some of the men from this district are in my mind, and while I think of them with regret, I am proud that Australia produced such men. I refer to Major Clements, Captain Auston Mahoney, Lieutenant Gerald Evans, Lieutenant Cyril Ashmead M.C., Sergeant Herbert Tanner, Corporal George Goodland, Lieutenant Cecil Lewis, and Privates Gamble, Green, Gould, Lindsay, Gardner, Tippet, Lewis, Emsllie, and Smith. I feel how much we are indebted to them for the liberty we enjoy. They were a credit to their parents, a credit to their country and to the Empire. I class young Foster with them, for he did the same work and made the same sacrifice on the battlefields of the Empire. Should we not honour his memory?

Chapter 24Mischief Makers and Lying Tongues.

This world is cruel and it never fails to visit on those who have made mistakes or are in anyway connected with the transgressor. The ill will of what they are pleased to call offended justice. If a dog has a bad name, they kick him, and if a man is down, they do the best to keep him down. Some of suchlike people pride themselves in their religion, but by the same token, they assume a virtue that is ill-chosen.

St. Paul said: “Though I speak with the tongue of men and of angels and have now charity, I am but a sounding brass and a tinkling symbol”. The religion of the Lord Jesus Christ, no matter by which creed it is taught, is a gospel of love. There is no love in blaming the innocent relatives for the deeds of the sinner in their family.

I heard a sad story from a girl who was only two years of age, when her brothers suffered death for their crimes. She never knew them; but when she grew to be a young woman, she felt a barrier between her and the people she knew, and remorse for her brothers’ actions made her go away to another state to earn her living. A feeling of loyalty to the name her mother always went by prevented her from taking another name. All went well with her for a while, until it was found that she came from Victoria. Then she was told about the wretched people in that state, and she was asked if she had ever met them. She was also told that the women in that family were a most immoral lot! This was hard enough to bear, but above that, when later her identity was discovered, she lost her place - for who would employ the sister of bushrangers?

She would remove for other place and get work, but the illness would soon follow her, and she would have to move again. At last, she was driven to take the post of barmaid. Here she heard coursed jokes, and often remarks about her people. One day, a drunken loafer was reviling the name of her sister Annie, who had been in her grave for ten years, and that was more than the girl could stand. She gave the fellow a piece of her mind, but it cost her place. She was thought not even fit for a bar. In despair she said: “I feel like a leper - an outcast from society”. I am glad to say that she kept to the straight path; she is now married to a respectable man, and has made a good wife.

The mischief makes talk but seldom speak, unless it is to injure someone. I have heard lots of things said about the Harts at the time of the breaking up of the Kelly Gang. There were some dreadful things said about the family; it was stated that one of the

brothers swore vengeance over the bodies of the dead bushrangers; this was claimed in public print, and even a picture shown in one of the Melbourne papers.

I am unable to believe it. I have known the Harts for forty years, have done business with them, and always found them the soul of honour. So far as I have known, Steve Hart was the only one of the family who ever got into trouble.

There has been a black sheep in many a good family, and the writers, who put everything before the public in its worst light, do not tell us that old Mr. and Mrs. Hart both died with their hearts broken, or that the descendants of the family are highly respected residents of Wangaratta, and people in a good position.

I have so much respect for many people, whose misfortune it was to be related to a desperate band of law-breakers, that I do not like to bring their names into this story, though the names became public property over forty years ago. I am only using them to state the truth from personal knowledge.

With regard to lying tongues, I feel inclined to tell one or two little stories. They are about a well know man in Greta. Everyone calls him Tom Lloyd. He is a cousin of the Kellys. When he was a young man, he was known far and wide for his splendid horsemanship. He was admitted to be the best buckjump-rider in the whole of Australia. In fact, it was said there was no one to surpass him in the world. It was not possible for a horse to throw him.

He is an old man now, but is still very fond of horses; he is often seen riding into the town, and always on a good horse. He can still ride well.

A few years ago, there was a buckjump show in Wangaratta. The organisers were offering five pounds to any man who could ride one of their outlaws for five minutes. Old Tom came forward, and when they saw his white whiskers, there was roar of laughter. However, they grew serious, when they saw that their horse could no more throw him than it could cast its skin, and they had to part with the five pounds.

One of his sons is a very fine rider, who went to England with a rough-rider show.

At the time of King George’s coronation a few years ago, I met a man in Melbourne, a few days after the Melbourne Cup When he found that I was from the North East, he said: “I met a man yesterday from up that way. Perhaps you know him - Old

Tom Lloyd they call him. He was down for the Cup and had a pretty good win. He was flourishing a riding whip, and said that there was no horse that could throw him”.

“I suppose you shouted for him”, I remarked.

“Oh, yes, and the old man is very fond of the beer. He has been in to see me several times, and I always take him to the hotel. The old chap is so interesting”.

I said: “You have been imposed upon for two reasons. I know the man is not Lloyd. Tom Lloyd is a strictly temperate man, and would be above loafing for beer. He never makes a boast about his horsemanship”.

When I saw Mr. Lloyd a few days later, I asked him how he got on at the Cup. He answered: “I had nothing on it”. I hinted: “I heard you went to the Cup”.

“No!” he denied it. “I have not been to Melbourne for over four years”.

When I told him my reason for asking, he added: “Oh that’s nothing strange”. Then he went one better and told me how he met “Tom Lloyd”:

“I had been over at New South Wales, shearing. I was coming back to Victoria with two mates. We had the three horses we were riding, and two packhorses. We arrived at a hotel a few miles the other side of Albury at about eleven o’clock. We decided to wait for dinner, fed our horses and sat in the verandah. After a while I decided we would have a drink. We went into the bar and I called for the drinks.

A big loafer came up and said: “I will have a long beer”. I answered: “Not at my expense”. He began to swear and wanted to fight. The landlord called me aside: “You have better give it to him. He is a desperate character - Tom Lloyd from Greta, one of that Kelly crowd. He would think no more of killing you than drinking a glass of beer”. I retorted: “I would like to have a talk with Tom Lloyd”, but was told to keep away from the brute, he would kill me. I took the risk, but he would hear of nothing but fight. My mate exclaimed: “Hit him!” but I said: “Oh, no. Let it pass!” My mate then hit him and knocked him out of the bar, and when he went after “Tom Lloyd”, he ran for a barb-wire fence. He tried to get through it but got stuck. My mate gave him a kick and sent him through and the impostor ran, but left one leg of his pants in the fence - and we introduced the landlord to

Chapter 25Consuming Fires.

Fire is a good servant if kept under control and used for domestic and commercial purposes; but when it gets beyond control and becomes man’s master, it is a cruel and merciless enemy, and commits the most dreadful ravages on life and property. A great many of us have seen it in its worst form.

In the country, what is most to be dreaded is the bushfires. We have seen them, fought against them, been driven back and found ourselves utterly helpless against the out-coming wall of fire, and could do nothing but watch the flames like hungry wolves, licking up every thing that was before them - not only grass, crops, or timber, but sheep, cattle, and horses leaving behind it – nothing but blackened ruins, smouldering hay stacks, burning grain, the burnt fences, and the charred remains of stock.

All that we have worked for years to acquire has gone in a few minutes. Is it to be wondered at that we dread the bush fires? On a scorching day in the month of February we see that a fire has started a few miles away. Great pillars of smoke rise high in the heavens. The volume increases, and great tongues of red flame shoot high in the air.

It was evidently in good country; everyone rushed to a fire, not only to help their neighbours but, if possible, to protect themselves. There are men of all parts. The bushfire brigades are there with their fire-carts and beaters. It is impossible to stand in front of the fire. All that can be done is to follow up the sides and keep it from spreading.

Then, with a roar like thunder, the fire sweeps into the hills. The thick timber, the high scrub and the dense undergrowth adds fuel to the flames. The scene becomes appalling. The tailers labour on falling trees, and carting water to put out fires to prevent a fresh outbreak. Men are thirsty and hungry. Buggies come and bring refreshment. The fire-fighters eat a hurried meal and feel better. Night comes, but still there is no rest. People’s homes are in danger - they must fight the fire. The night is made hideous with the shrieks of terrified animals; overwhelmed by the fire, they are suffering a dreadful death. Large flocks of birds fly about screaming, only to fall into the fire and be roasted alive.

Daylight came, but it brought no relief. The sun rose like a ball of fire. The flames were burning more fiercely than ever in the night, they had reached the level country and were rushing on to the King River like a mighty cyclone.

Most of the farmers managed to save their homesteads, but there were a few who lost all they had. Word was brought that a homestead in a valley in the hills was in danger. We went at once with the fire-carts and beaters. The place was sheltered - a big hill prevented the wind from fanning the flame, but it was still creeping on like a big snake.

United effort turned its course, and for the time the danger was over, but as if hungry for its work of destruction, the flame crossed a road and burnt back on the other side. With a mighty roar, it swept down on the house. Men fought like demons, but the very ground seemed to burn. Soon the flames were licking the walls. Determined effort saved the house. As if to show its revenge, the fire went on and burnt the haystacks.

Forty men, with their faces blackened and grimy, were tired and worn out. Still their task was not at an end. Scarcely had they rested, when the fire broke out again on the west side. Now came the greatest fight of all. Could it be stoped? It must be stoped! If it went another mile, all would be lost. Men worked all day long with horses and ploughs. They burnt track and made fire-breaks, and at last were rewarded with success - the fire was gotten under and all was safe.

The last of the fire was near the Kellys. Jim had worked like a tiger. When we went around by his place to see if all was safe, his mother had made some tea, which was much enjoyed by the fire-fighters.

Of ten in long past years, I have thought of the time, when we stood near the little house and looked across at the blackened hills – the result of the last great bushfire. How many disasters are brought about by small things? Perhaps some foolish action that the person, who made the mistake, would give worlds to recall. The great fire was caused by a spark from a swagman’s pipe. It caused the loss of thousands of pounds worth of property, and the suffering and death of many poor animals.

Every calamity has a small beginning. It was so with the Kelly Gang. A little spark caused a big fire, and brought sadness to many hearts. The big fire burnt many Thorns and Briars, but it also burnt many flowers.

In this closing chapter of my stories I want to say that men and women are not all bad, and often in the lives of those, who are most condemned, there are noble qualities. In any case, we all are within the each of God’s saving grace, for Christ died that all men

might live. Let us be kind, and we will be better men, better citizens, and better Christians.

I want to take you to a little house at the foot of Kellys’ Gap. There is no sign of richness or ill-gotten gain to be found here. Look at the pictures on the walls! There are enlargements of members of the family, but that is not all. There are the framed enlargements of the King and Queen. These people are loyal. Of course they are loyal, for had they not proven it with the blood of their own kith and kin?

Look at the old lady - she is in her ninety-fourth year. She is sitting in her chair by the fire. She is cold, always cold. Her great age has made her blood thin, and she loves to sit by the fire. Someday, she will not die but will just fall asleep.

Now look at her son. His beard is snow white. Working hard, he has become old in a life which he devoted to his family, to his dear sister’s children, and entirely to his aged mother. Few have made a greater sacrifice or played a more noble part.

For forty years the Kellys have been trying to live down a bad name, and so did their many relatives in the North-East - the upright honest people; they are above reproach, and gladly would they forget the black past.

Why not help them, and let the deeds of the past be buried with the dead?

By Glenden Gordon.